


Spicy

by honooko



Category: VIXX
Genre: Dance!AU, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 16:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13551510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honooko/pseuds/honooko
Summary: Jung Taekwoon, a famous ballad singer, decides to branch out a bit in style and needs someone to teach him how to dance. Cha Hakyeon, a recent dance graduate, is still not entirely sure why he gets the job.





	Spicy

**Author's Note:**

> For Kai and Isa. Thank you. ♥
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Everything I know about dancing comes from Google and Youtube, so I'm certain there are things about this that actually don't make sense. I apologize for inaccuracies, I tried.

Hakyeon had started teaching dance in his free time while he finished up his studies, just to make a little money. Then, after his performance for the national competition that year, he started getting requests from small-time local artists to choreograph for them. It was an honor, and he regularly questioned whether he deserved it; sure, he danced hard and well, but he wouldn’t have called himself an expert in any way.

“You’ve been doing this for _six years_ , Hakyeon-ah,” Luda pointed out. “You did a little bit of everything; that’s expertise, whether you’ll admit it or not.”

“It still seems weird,” Hakyeon complained to his mentor. “I don’t feel like I know what I’m doing half the time.”

“I don’t think anyone feels like they know what they’re doing, really,” she told him. “We all walk around in our professional lives, constantly feeling a little bit like we’re imposters. You should have a little more confidence in yourself.”

He nodded like he understood and agreed, but in reality, it just made him feel more... dishonest, somehow. He sipped his tea and tried to look relieved so Luda wouldn’t worry about him. She’d done so much for him; he didn’t want her to think that he thought her mentorship had been inadequate in some way.

Hakyeon just couldn’t shake the feeling of not being even 10% as good as he wanted to be.

 

 

“Jung Taekwoon?” Hakyeon asked. “Yeah, I—I know him. I mean, I know _of_ him, we’ve never met or anything.”

“Well,” his manager said, “He’s trying to change up his image a bit, move away from ballads.”

Hakyeon bit his lip, glad that the manager couldn’t see him through the phone. He had significantly misrepresented his knowledge of Jung Taekwoon; the man had a beautiful, airy voice that haunted you. He’d been to two concerts, once skipping class just to go. He’d told Luda he had food poisoning. Hakyeon owned every CD, and at least one of his songs was on every playlist he made.

He was a pretty big fan, which made this entire conversation awkward.

“He’s been working on some more rock-styled things, a little poppy,” the manager continued. “Obviously, singing ballads, there’s not a lot of dancing involved. We think it’s a good time to work on it.”

“And you want _me_ to teach him?” Hakyeon squeaked.

“Not just teach,” the manager informed him. “We want you to choreograph for him too. We already had a couple of people come down—to be honest, I don’t think they went too well.”

“What was the problem?” Hakyeon asked, even more concerned than before. If two other qualified people had failed, why on earth would anyone turn to _him?_

“It’s a bit complicated,” the manager said with a sigh. Hakyeon could picture his shoulders heaving. “Just come down this week, talk to him a bit. We’ll decide then whether it’ll work out.”

“Sure,” Hakyeon said immediately, excited. “I mean—yes, that sounds great. Where should I go?”

Hakyeon copied down the address the manager, Minjun, gave him and read it back twice. As soon as he hung up, he did a little foot-stamping dance of excitement; Jung Taekwoon! He was going to meet Jung Taekwoon! And not just a little handshake like fan signing events he never managed to get a ticket to, but _sitting down_ and _talking_ and _working together._

Immediately, the insecurity set in; two previous dance professionals had ‘not worked out’; was there something about Jung Taekwoon he didn’t know? Was he nitpicky or a diva? It seemed unlikely—in concerts, he always seemed very humble and sweet. It was hard to imagine he might have a dark side that made him a nightmare to work with. Maybe he was just very picky.

Whatever the problem was, Hakyeon decided to do his best to work with it. This wasn’t just his excitement as a fan; this was his profession now, and he wanted to maintain a good reputation. That meant working well with one of the more popular singers on the music scene.

It seemed incredibly weird to bring his dance bag to a meeting, but he hadn’t been clear on whether they’d be dancing on the first day or not, and he was too nervous about it to ask Minjun. He dressed with care (nice sweater, slacks) and put his least-ratty dance clothes (black pants, very stretchy, soft charcoal long-sleeve shirt) in his bag, and left all his dangling accessories behind. Dancing with a necklace was annoying. He wore sneakers, but put his jazz shoes in his bag just in case.

Hakyeon had no idea what to expect, and nervousness fluttered around his chest.

Minjun was at the door of the studio to meet him; he smiled warmly at Hakyeon.

“Cha Hakyeon?” he asked. “Welcome!”

“Thank you for having me,” Hakyeon said politely. He couldn’t help glancing over Minjun’s shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of the singer; he must have been too obvious about it, because Minjun chuckled.

“He’s hiding in the recording area,” he informed Hakyeon. “Let’s go find him.”

“Why is he hiding?” Hakyeon asked, following Minjun through a narrow hallway; they passed a large dance studio with a wall-to-wall mirror. Internally, Hakyeon approved of its size and quality.

“He’s a little traumatized from the other two, I think,” Minjun said with a sigh. 

“Traumatized?” Hakyeon repeated, confused.

“Yeah,” Minjun said. “The first guy was pretty strict and kept scolding him. I think he thought Taekwoon was being defiant or something. The next woman literally told him he needed to join a basics class before she could do anything with him. She also said he didn’t have a body suited to dance.”

Hakyeon gaped at him; he couldn’t imagine anyone being so rude to a student.

“Anyway, he’s... not looking forward to this,” Minjun informed him. “Sorry in advance if that comes across wrong.” He reached a door with frosted glass and knocked on it before pushing it open and gesturing inside.

Hakyeon passed him; Jung Taekwoon was sitting in a chair in front of a mixing board. He had his knees pulled up and his stocking feet on the chair; he was fiddling with the board with huge studio headphones on. With his back to them, there was no way he’d heard them come in. Hakyeon walked around his side, leaning into his field of vision with a warm smile.

Jung Taekwoon jerked backwards with a squeak; his chair wobbled, and for a second he looked like he was going to fall. Hakyeon stamped his foot on the base of the chair and grabbed the arms, keeping it upright.

When the chair was stable again, Jung Taekwoon yanked the headphones off his head and put them on the table; Hakyeon noticed his hands were shaking ever so slightly.

What the hell had the other dancers said to him?

“Taekwoon-ah, this is Cha Hakyeon. You saw his performance, remember?”

Taekwoon gave a single short nod. When Minjun and Hakyeon continued to stare at him, he turned bright red and said softly, “The blindfold one.”

His nationals’ performance? Taekwoon saw _that_ dance?

“What did you think?” Hakyeon asked, unsure if his nervousness was coming out in his voice.

“It—it was really cool,” Taekwoon said, still soft. Hakyeon had never been this close to him before; Taekwoon had sharp, angular features that were contrasted with rounded cheeks, a soft mouth, and bright eyes. Exactly like he looked in magazines, but _real_.

“Thank you,” Hakyeon said sincerely, flattered. “I worked on that one for a while.”

“I could tell,” Taekwoon said. 

“After things... didn’t work out with the other dancers,” Minjun cut in, “Taekwoon asked if we could get you.”

“Me?” Hakyeon said, eyes wide in surprise.

“He really liked your performance,” Minjun added, “It was a bit hard to track you down.”

“How on earth did you even find that?” Hakyeon asked Taekwoon. Taekwoon sank lower in his seat, dropping his head and fanning his face with his hands.

“I think he just searched Youtube for ‘dance performance’,” Minjun supplied.

Well, okay, there was probably a fancam of his dance on there somewhere, but it definitely didn’t have enough views to pop up unless someone spent a lot of time going through videos. It was a surprising amount of effort, especially considering Jung Taekwoon was famous enough to be able to get pretty much anyone he wanted. There were so many big-name studios and choreographers in Seoul; why had Jung Taekwoon picked _him_?

“Let’s go chat,” Minjun suggested, putting a hand on Taekwoon’s shoulder. He nodded and unfolded himself from the chair; as soon as he stood, Hakyeon felt a sigh work its way from his chest. Taekwoon looked at him sharply, alarmed, but Hakyeon smiled.

“Sorry,” he said. “You’re tall; I’m a bit jealous.”

“You’re not exactly short,” Minjun pointed out.

“I know,” Hakyeon said. “So being shorter than someone is kind of annoying.”

“Am I wrong?” Taekwoon said abruptly.

“Wrong?” Hakyeon parroted, confused.

“For dancing,” Taekwoon clarified. “Am I—I can’t dance like this? Am I the wrong size for it?”

“What? Of course not!” Hakyeon laughed. “Anyone can dance, there’s no ‘shape’. Really the only things you need are flexibility and stamina; everything else can be learned.”

“Really?” Taekwoon asked, and Hakyeon remembered the criticism he’d received before. He put a hand on Taekwoon’s arm.

“Really,” he said, smiling in what he hoped was an encouraging way. “You’ll be fine, okay?”

Taekwoon dropped his head again, but not before Hakyeon saw an adorable flush across his cheeks.

Minjun led them back to the dance studio before waving them off, having other things to do; Taekwoon seemed hesitant to even come inside, hovering in the doorway and glancing around nervously. Hakyeon smiled; he’d taught nervous beginners before, albeit less famous ones. The first thing he did was take off his shoes; barefoot, he walked to the stereo and plugged the aux cord into his phone. He pulled up his slow warm-up playlist and walked to the center of the room—and sat down cross-legged.

“Come on,” Hakyeon said, waving him over. “I don’t bite.”

Taekwoon still seemed nervous; his arms were crossed, and he took exactly two steps before losing his nerve again. Hakyeon wanted to smack whoever it was that had spooked him this badly; it didn’t matter how much confidence or experience at student had when walking through that door. Students deserved teachers that respected them and held them up warmly. Just as he was about to repeat himself, the song switched on the playlist—to one of Taekwoon’s.

“You have my music?” Taekwoon asked, surprised. Hakyeon felt a blush of his own, but kept smiling.

“It’s good music,” he explained. “I made this playlist for warming up nice and slowly, so everything on it is just calm and soft. I like your waltzes.”

“I wrote a waltz?” Taekwoon asked, confused. He came forward on careful feet, sinking down across from Hakyeon and sitting with his knees pulled up again. His legs were so long, Hakyeon had no idea how it could be comfortable.

“You’ve written several waltzes,” Hakyeon informed him. “You didn’t know?” He shook his head; Hakyeon wasn’t terribly surprised. Many people didn’t hear the same things he did in music; it didn’t have to be classical to be a waltz, or swing, or salsa, or—pretty much anything. All that mattered was the tone and the beat. 

“I didn’t—I don’t know anything about dancing,” Taekwoon said sullenly. “I thought I did, but apparently that was wrong.”

“Can you walk?”

“What?”

“Can you walk?” Hakyeon asked him.

“Yes.”

“Can you run?”

“Yea—”

“Can you skip? Jog? Jump rope? Ice skate? Roller skate?” he continued to list. When Taekwoon just stared at him, he smiled.

“Then you can dance,” he said. “It’s moving to a pattern, a rhythm. A beat. That’s all dancing is, at its very core. Movement, following sound. You already understand rhythm just fine, and you can already move your body. All we need to do is figure out how we want to link those together.”

“We?” Taekwoon asked, frowning. “Isn’t that what you’ll do?”

“Is this my performance?” Hakyeon shot back.

Taekwoon shook his head, looking somewhat hesitant.

“Then it’s not good enough for me to just plan something according to how I, personally, would do it. It’s about creating something that enhances you. It has to be collaborative to feel comfortable. If it was choreographing for a large group, that’s a different story, but just for you? The both of us, together. I’ll make a rough piece, we’ll go through it and make adjustments as we go, until we’re both satisfied that it looks the best it can be.”

Taekwoon dropped his head again; Hakyeon smiled. He already knew Taekwoon was modest and humble, but he hadn’t realized how shy he was until they met. It made him all the more impressed with Taekwoon as a performer—overcoming nervousness and shyness so you could stand on a stage in front of thousands of people took a lot of work and courage. He put a hand on Taekwoon’s knee.

“We’re partners in this,” he said gently. “That’s how I work and teach. Just because I know how doesn’t mean I know best.”

“Why did the others get so upset?” Taekwoon asked him. “The other dancers.”

“Ego,” Hakyeon said instantly. “You’re a performer, you know how some people are. It’s the same in dance. People let their arrogance bleed into their work, and their work suffers for it. I’m sorry you were on the receiving end of that.”

“Do you yell?”

“Sometimes,” Hakyeon admitted with a sigh. “But it’s always in my underclassmen’s group lessons. There are a handful of kids that really get a kick out of pushing every single button I have; they’re just playing though. I wouldn’t yell at them when they’re being serious, I know how hard they’re working.”

Taekwoon nodded, but he still seemed wary; Hakyeon had an idea. He stood up and gestured for Taekwoon to do the same; as the singer unfolded himself, Hakyeon jogged back to his playlist and went back to Taekwoon’s accidental waltz, setting it on repeat.

“We’re going to waltz,” he informed Taekwoon.

“What?”

“Waltz,” Hakyeon repeated. “It’s not hard, I promise. Just a box step.” Taekwoon didn’t move, but he allowed Hakyeon to lift his hands.

“Is this the kind of dancing you’ll teach me?” he asked.

“It’s the kind we’ll learn today,” Hakyeon said. “You’ll do the boy’s part, I’m the girl.” 

“Why?” Taekwoon asked immediately.

“Because the girl has to move backwards, and that’s a little harder. Put your hand on my shoulder blade. This hand we hold up. Just a loose grasp, see? No vices, I want to keep my fingers.” Taekwoon adjusted to Hakyeon’s instructions quite quickly; the slight size difference between them suited the fact that Hakyeon was taking the woman’s position.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his left hand resting on Taekwoon’s shoulder. Taekwoon nodded. “Alright. A basic waltz step is simple, it’s a one-two-three count. This foot goes forward, then step out, then together. Forward, out, together. One, two, three. One, two, three.”

As they moved, Taekwoon watched his feet, nervous.

“Head up,” Hakyeon said. “Waltzing is a pair activity; pay attention to your partner, not the floor.”

“Sorry,” Taekwoon mumbled. 

“Don’t apologize,” Hakyeon said, slightly scolding. “You’re doing fine, you’re learning. You’re going to make mistakes. That’s okay. Now keep your shoulders up—good! One, two, three. One, two, three.”

Taekwoon had his head up, but his gaze was anywhere but on Hakyeon’s face.

“I realize I’m not a pretty girl, but could you at least pretend like you want to be looking at me?” Hakyeon jokingly whined. “I’m sensitive.” Taekwoon’s eyes snapped to his, meeting and holding. He was blushing again. 

Taekwoon was really cute.

“Okay, now a waltz has a rise and fall. On one, you start low, then you go up, then down. Down, up, up, down, up, up—good, that’s perfect. See, you can do this!” Hakyeon told him, pleased with his immediate progress. He was far from unteachable; he was just nervous.

“Next part is moving,” he said. “Right now we’re not really going anywhere, but a proper ballroom dance means moving around the whole room, so rotate your steps to the right a bit. I’ll follow. We want to go clockwise.”

As they continued to dance, Hakyeon let the counting fall away gradually until there was no sound except the music and their bare feet on the flooring. Taekwoon had a grace to him, aided by long limbs and broad shoulders; he settled into the rhythm quickly, rising and falling with considerable ease. He started to naturally lead, and Hakyeon let him steer without pushing or correcting just to see where they ended up; he was delighted when Taekwoon held to the pattern he’d been given.

The song ended, and they stopped. Taekwoon didn’t drop their hold, but looked at Hakyeon in wonderment.

“See?” Hakyeon told him warmly. “You can dance just fine.”

Taekwoon reddened—but he also smiled, just a bit, for the first time.

Hakyeon beamed, proud of Taekwoon.

“You’ll teach me, right?” Taekwoon asked, hopeful.

“I’d love to,” Hakyeon said. He meant it.

 

 

In his eagerness to get started, Hakyeon arrived at the studio early, before Taekwoon. He’d put together a few new playlists to use, depending on how the lesson played out, and he came straight in his dance clothes. With nothing to really do except kill some time once everything was set up, he put on one of the newer playlists and started stretching; as soon as he felt reasonably limber, he just started to move. 

The focus of this playlist was simply a list of songs he’d like to work on more when time allowed; he had half-thought ideas for all of them, but hadn’t sat down and really tried to make something yet. For now, he was happy just to rise and fall, moving with the music and trying to tell a story with his body.

Hakyeon was pretty far into the playlist when he noticed Taekwoon sitting on the floor near the door, watching him. He spun around, surprised and a touch embarrassed. He glanced up at the clock—they were supposed to have started ten minutes ago.

“Sorry!” Hakyeon said, jogging over to stop the music and then back to Taekwoon. “Got a little distracted. You should have stopped me!”

“Why would I stop you?” Taekwoon asked. “You looked really cool.”

“Because you’re paying me to teach you, not entertain you,” Hakyeon said, flattered despite himself.

“I could pay you to entertain me too,” Taekwoon said. It took half a second for his slight pout to register, but the second it did, Hakyeon laughed.

“Thanks moneybags, but I’m a little busy with the teaching part.” He winked, just so Taekwoon would know he was teasing. Taekwoon blinked before turning his head away, as if that would somehow hide the blush. They hadn’t even started yet; what was he getting so shy and nervous over?

“Alright, time to warm up,” Hakyeon said, gesturing for Taekwoon to stand. He evaluated his clothing: the long-sleeved shirt was fine, if he didn’t mind getting a bit warm, but the tight, artistically distressed jeans definitely weren’t going to work.

“What?” Taekwoon asked defensively after Hakyeon finished giving him a once-over.

“Do you have other pants?” Hakyeon asked. “Jeans are not ideal for this.”

Taekwoon blinked at him for a moment before shaking his head. Hakyeon sighed, then gestured for Taekwoon to follow him to his dance bag. Fortunately, he always carried spare clothing in case someone showed up to class unprepared. He held out a pair of sweatpants; they weren’t brand new, but they were in perfectly good condition.

“You want me to wear your pants?!” Taekwoon asked in alarm.

“I want you to be able to move comfortably,” Hakyeon corrected him. “Trust me, jeans get very pinchy very fast. Also chafing is a thing, probably want to avoid that.”

“But they’re _your_ pants,” Taekwoon repeated.

“I carry spares for a reason,” Hakyeon said, raising an eyebrow. “Students don’t always come prepared.”

“What if they don’t fit?” he tried, but Hakyeon shook his head.

“They’re sweats,” he pointed out. “You’re not _that_ much taller than me.”

Taekwoon took them from him without meeting his eyes; he was bright red again, and Hakyeon mostly understood it this time, but it couldn’t be helped. Was it slightly awkward to borrow clothes? Yeah, but dance was both physically intense and heavy on repetitive movements. Jeans were not a good idea for either of those things.

Silent, Taekwoon scurried off to the bathroom to change. Hakyeon went back to the music, selecting one of the new playlists; this one was a slow warm up too, but with a little more speed towards the end. A good warm-up, in his mind, should do more than work up your body; the music should also inspire movement. The right songs, in the right order, at the right time, and anyone would dance. It was that precise artform that made DJs vital to clubs.

He heard Taekwoon return; turning around, Hakyeon was about to greet him when the words died on his lips.

Jung Taekwoon was a very attractive man; in concerts, on CD jackets, the occasional magazine spread—everything confirmed this very basic, well-established fact of reality. Jung Taekwoon dressed like a successful musician would dress: fashionably.

Jung Taekwoon, wearing his sweats, was a different story. 

It wasn’t even that he looked bad; he didn’t. He looked fantastic. He was slightly sulky, and the sweats exposed his ankles just a bit too much, but the lack of shape just sort of emphasized how _long_ and _lean_ he was. His slouchy shirt contributed to the overall look, and as everything came together the instant he saw, Hakyeon had one thought, crystal clear, ringing in his head:

He looks amazing in my clothes.

It was extremely hard to bite back that exact statement, so instead he put his hands on his cheeks and made a shrill squeaking noise, stomping around excitedly in place.

“Oppaaaaaa~!” he said, waving one arm aggressively. Taekwoon froze and stared at him, eyes wide. Hakyeon dropped the act and pouted at him.

“Come on,” he said. “That was a dead-on impression of your fangirls, don’t even pretend I’m wrong.”

“That was terrifying,” Taekwoon informed him, slouching forward into the room. “It’s scary when they do it for real, but that was actually worse.”

“And by worse, you mean—”

“Accurate,” Taekwoon said with a shiver. “Very accurate.”

“Thought so,” Hakyeon replied with a sneaky smile. He almost got away with it, but then Taekwoon smiled at him, eye crinkling up and mouth pursed, and Hakyeon felt yesterday’s nervous flutters return with a vengeance. He turned away before Taekwoon could see him flush. It wasn’t until he looked directly ahead that he remembered he was in a room with wall-to-wall mirrors.

“Are you blushing?” Taekwoon asked him, sounding astonished.

“No,” Hakyeon said. “Yes. Maybe. Aren’t we supposed to be dancing?”

“I only know how to do the waltz,” Taekwoon reminded him, still smiling. “That was fun.”

“You liked it?” Hakyeon said, feeling a bubble of delight in chest. 

“It was fun,” Taekwoon repeated. “You’re—you’re fun.”

Okay, now Hakyeon was _seriously_ blushing. He liked compliments, but coming from someone he already admired (who, by the way, was still very attractive) it meant quite a lot more. In an attempt to get past his embarrassment (pleasure?) Hakyeon trotted back to the stereo and went back to the beginning of the playlist he’d made last night.

“Time to warm up,” he said brightly. “It’s a bit tedious, but stretching is—”

“Important,” Taekwoon said, nodding. When Hakyeon blinked at him, surprised, he shrugged. “I used to play a lot of sports. If you don’t warm up, you’ll get hurt.”

“Great attitude,” Hakyeon said with a nod. “Stretching for dance is a little more... rhythmic than most sports, I think. We do it to music. Keeps you motivated.”

“Do I need to be flexible for this?” Taekwoon asked, sounding a bit nervous again. Hakyeon shook his head.

“It helps, but that’s partly what we’re working on anyway,” Hakyeon told him. “You’ll loosen up as we go. Same with stamina, really.”

“So you must be pretty—" Taekwoon asked began, but before he could finish the sentence Hakyeon looked him dead in the eye with a pleasant smile and dropped smoothly into a full straight split, settling quite comfortably. He then leaned forward, supporting himself on his elbows and propped up his chin with his hands.

“I used to do ballet,” he explained. “Modern dance borrows a fair bit from ballet too.”

Taekwoon was gaping at him; it seemed to be a mixture of fear, respect, and something else Hakyeon couldn’t _quite_ identify.

“I don’t expect you to do this, by the way,” Hakyeon clarified as he sat up straight again. “It’s pretty much unnecessary unless you’re doing ballet, and that takes years to get good at.”

Taekwoon mumbled something that Hakyeon didn’t quite catch; he titled his head.

“What?”

“I want to see,” he said, slightly louder. 

“See ballet?”

“See _you_ doing ballet,” Taekwoon clarified. 

“Oh goodness, no you don’t,” he said, waving his hand. “I was never terribly good; you have to be incredibly strong, and I never had that much time to devote to it. Also I _hate_ dance belts.”

“What’s a dance belt?” Taekwoon asked. He came over to Hakyeon and sat down cross-legged in front of him; Hakyeon pulled his legs back in, mirroring Taekwoon. He scrunched up his nose.

“It’s—I mean, it’s basically a thong,” he explained. Taekwoon turned pink and refused to look him in the face.

“That... doesn’t sound comfortable.”

“It isn’t,” Hakyeon said. “Like I said, I hate them.”

“You said we won’t do ballet,” Taekwoon reminded him.

“Nope,” Hakyeon said. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s beautiful, but it’s really hard and unless you’re in it to be a ballet dancer, you don’t _need_ it. You want jazz and hip hop; ballet doesn’t help either of those particularly, so it’s not worth the time investment.”

“But first we warm up?”

“Yep. Are you ready?”

He got a nod in affirmation, so they began. They started slow, rolling the neck and shoulders, stretching legs, lunging, working out tension—as the music continued, Hakyeon added more dance-specific movements, like isolating body parts to move, adding gestures and extensions. As they sped up, he started counting out the beats. The entire time, he was watching Taekwoon through the mirror. Taekwoon wasn’t bad, but he also didn’t seem to have a complete awareness of how he took up space. His extensions weren’t full, and he continued to hunch a bit. Hakyeon had seen that before; taller people instinctively slouched in a subconscious attempt to be slightly smaller.

“Are you uncomfortable with your body?” he asked somewhat abruptly, turning around. Taekwoon froze, his arm extended but with a bent elbow.

“What?”

“Are you uncomfortable?” Hakyeon repeated. “Self-conscious? Have a complex about something?”

“Why does that matter?” Taekwoon said evasively.

“Because you’re not claiming your space,” Hakyeon said. “Look.” He came forward, putting one hand on Taekwoon’s wrist, and the other on his elbow. He pushed gently, forcing a full extension. Without releasing, he continued. “This is how long your arm is, and this is how long your extension should be. Use all of yourself.”

Taekwoon was silent.

“Are you following?” Hakyeon asked gently, remembering the ways Taekwoon had been snapped at before.

“It’s uncomfortable,” Taekwoon admitted very quietly. Hakyeon released him.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because when I do it, it looks weird. When you do it, I can’t—I don’t want to look away from you,” he confessed in a rush, dropping his head. It was probably for the best he wasn’t looking, because Hakyeon felt himself blushing.

Why was he doing it so _much_ today?

“It looks weird because you’re still bent up,” Hakyeon said. “You have beautiful long arms and legs; let them reach.”

“Beautiful?” Taekwoon echoed, looking startled. Hakyeon stared at him.

“You didn’t... know that?” he asked, confused how Taekwoon could have gone his entire adult life so far totally unaware he was gorgeous. So gorgeous Hakyeon had spent an embarrassing amount of time sighing over him in magazines and at concerts and in CD jackets and—

A lot. It was a lot of time.

Taekwoon shook his head.

“I look like a spider,” he commented, lifting his arms with both wrists limp.

“You look like you walked out of a girl’s manhwa,” Hakyeon corrected. “Like the lead love interest or something.”

Taekwoon seemed unconvinced. Hakyeon sighed.

“Waltz with me.”

“What?”

“Waltz,” Hakyeon repeated, holding out his arms. “Hurry up.”

Taekwoon placed his hands correctly on the first try, but his shoulders we curled in, so Hakyeon tapped the shoulder under his left hand impatiently.

“Stand straight, this is ballroom,” he said. “Now, dance.”

To his credit, while Taekwoon started off a bit awkward, he was self-correcting himself quite quickly; he remembered to look up, to rise and fall, and to lead. When Hakyeon was satisfied he was moving cleanly, he smiled.

“Now, don’t stop, but look at yourself in the mirror,” he instructed. Taekwoon glanced—then stared. He followed himself around the room, eyes wide. Hakyeon just kept smiling at him, waiting for him to understand. As they moved, he could see a dawning expression in Taekwoon’s eyes, one that for some reason included a pretty flush across his cheeks and nose.

“See?” Hakyeon said, warm. “You look lovely.”

“It’s not me,” Taekwoon mumbled.

“What? Of course it is, mirrors can’t lie,” Hakyeon snorted. Taekwoon looked back at him, startled again.

“No, it’s—nevermind,” he said, cutting himself off abruptly. He stopped dancing, and as they came to rest, he looked up at Hakyeon with a sweet smile. Hakyeon’s heartbeat picked up quickly, suddenly aware of the fact that Taekwoon had once again forgotten to let him go—and aware of how much he really didn’t want him to remember. Before he could get himself into any trouble, Hakyeon pulled out of the hold and rubbed his palms nervously on his thighs.

“Anyway,” he said. “Let’s get back to it, shall we?”

 

 

“I’m _tired_ ,” Taekwoon whined two days later, slumped against the wall with a water bottle in his hand. He was sweating, flapping his shirt collar to get more air moving over him. They had the AC cranked, but long sleeves were still long sleeves. Hakyeon was also sweating, but he wore black for a reason: less visible sweat. He wiped his face on a towel before running it through his hair; he was panting, but pleased.

“Good,” he told Taekwoon. “It means you’re working hard. You’re going to hurt a lot, by the way.”

“I know,” Taekwoon groaned, putting his hands over his face. “The day after tomorrow will be the worst.”

“Yep,” Hakyeon concurred, grinning. “You’re doing great, though.”

Taekwoon parted his fingers so he could see Hakyeon without moving his hands.

“Really?”

“Really,” Hakyeon said. “Like I said the other day, you already know how music and movement work. We’re just putting them together.”

“When will we start working on my stuff?” Taekwoon asked before taking a long drink from his bottle. Hakyeon pretended to be thinking so he could watch Taekwoon’s Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed. The image of a flushed, sweating, panting Taekwoon was not something he was going to forget for a while.

He didn’t want to, but that was a different story.

“We could do some today, if you’re not too beat,” Hakyeon told him. “Don’t overdo it, you’ll just get frustrated with yourself.”

“I want to,” Taekwoon said immediately. “The tracks aren’t quite finished, but close enough.”

“And I thought hearing new tracks at concerts first was exciting,” Hakyeon chirped. “Now I get to hear them before they’re even done!”

“Wait,” Taekwoon asked, eyes wide, “You’ve been to one of my concerts?” Hakyeon realized his slip and bit his lip nervously.

“Maaaaaaybe?” he said hesitantly, uncomfortably aware of Taekwoon’s gaze.

“ _When?_ ”

“October,” Hakyeon admitted. “...and April.”

“Twice?!” Taekwoon squeaked.

“Is it weird?” Hakyeon said, wincing. “It’s weird, isn’t it. I’m sorry, I just—I mean, I like your music so I... wanted to go...”

Suddenly, Taekwoon was laughing, more than Hakyeon had ever seen before, hard enough to bend in half. It was so abrupt and so _cute_ Hakyeon couldn’t help but try to keep it going.

“I don’t have _every_ CD, just the ones that came with posters I can use as literal wallpaper,” he said, playfully whiny. “Do you know how many times I’ve tried to get into a fan sign, only to be beat out by a high school girl? It’s a terrible blow to my self-esteem.”

Taekwoon fell over onto his side.

“I don’t pray at my altar to you _every_ night, just _some_ nights, so it’s not creepy or anything.”

“Stop,” Taekwoon gasped. “Please stop!”

“On one condition: you have to sign a copy of that sexy photoshoot you did for VOGUE last summer,” he said, mock-stern. “My mint copy; not the copy I allow _mortals_ to touch.”

Taekwoon was making sounds that were borderline dying, which made Hakyeon crack, bursting into laughter and bracing his hands on his knees.

“Should I sign it,” Taekwoon gasped, “as ‘oppa’?”

Then Hakyeon was on the floor, clutching at his stomach and trying to breathe. The laughter just seemed to keep going, the both of them feeding each other, until they were lying on their backs on the floor, wiping tears from their eyes and trying to breathe properly.

“What were we supposed to be doing again?” Hakyeon said once his abs stopped aching. “I forgot.”

“I don’t know,” Taekwoon said. “Does it matter?”

“You’re paying me,” Hakyeon reminded him. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Taekwoon decided firmly, a grin on his face. Hakyeon mirrored it, beaming.

“No, I want to hear the new stuff!” he whined. “You got me all worked up!” 

Taekwoon’s face was already red from the laughter, but his expression changed to one of embarrassment; he rolled over to hide his face from Hakyeon. It made him feel instantly guilty; he wasn’t sure how he had triggered it, but he wished he hadn’t.

“Sorry,” he said very quietly.

“What?” Taekwoon said, looking back and sounding quite distracted. “What for?”

“I... don’t know,” Hakyeon said. “You just looked... unhappy.”

“I’m not—that’s not—no,” Taekwoon stammered. He looked away again, fanning his face with his hands. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Hakyeon replied, unconvinced but willing to let it go. Taekwoon stood up, and from Hakyeon’s position on the floor, he looked impossibly tall and willowy. It was a good thing Taekwoon made for the door, because a sigh worked its way out of his chest that definitely would have been hard to explain.

“I’m going to grab the tracks,” he said. “Be right back.”

“Okay,” Hakyeon said from the floor. As soon as Taekwoon was gone, he sighed again. He was having so much fun, it didn’t feel like working at all. They had a good vibe, the kind Hakyeon usually latched on to and refused to let go of. It wasn’t very professional of him, but selfishly he hoped Taekwoon would keep him around, or at least hang out now and then, once he’d learned everything he wanted to.

It was going to be hard to go back to teaching underclassmen, that was certain.

Taekwoon reappeared; he was holding a CD to his chest like it was something precious. He went straight for the stereo, pulling out Hakyeon’s aux cord and putting the CD in the deck. Just before he hit play, he turned around.

“They’re not finished, remember,” he said, anxiety in every word. Hakyeon smiled.

“I can’t wait,” he said sincerely. He patted the floor next to him, inviting Taekwoon to sit together and listen. He was pleased when Taekwoon did exactly that: he was cross-legged, but bouncing his knee nervously. Without thinking, Hakyeon put his hand on it to calm him; he was somewhat surprised that it seemed to work.

As the first track played, Hakyeon’s first thought was one of pure delight. It was absolutely something different from everything else in Taekwoon’s wheelhouse, but it still sounded like _him_ , still the voice heavy with emotion he expected. The instrumentation was completely new, and as the song went on, he instinctively started tapping out the beat with his free hand against the floor. The rhythm was... 

Lost in his counting, he realized abruptly that Taekwoon was staring at his face, deeply, looking for a reaction.

“I like this,” Hakyeon told him. “It’s kind of spicy.”

“...Spicy?”

“This is a tango,” Hakyeon informed him. “Tango can be in 2/4 time or 4/4. Most of your other stuff is—”

“3/4,” Taekwoon said immediately.

“Right, and that’s waltz music, either standard or Viennese if you’re getting fancy,” Hakyeon said with a hand gesture he hoped would be interpreted as ‘fancy’. “Most other ballroom is 4/4, but tango can be 2/4. And this is _spicy._ ”

“Is spicy the same as sexy?” Taekwoon asked.

“Almost every kind of dancing can be sexy,” Hakyeon said. “Except square dancing, nobody can save that one. _Spicy_ is passionate sexy. Latin sexy. You know, just—hot.”

“So do I need to tango?” Taekwoon asked, sounding mildly concerned.

“It would be tremendously boring as a pop performance unless you were doing it _really_ well,” Hakyeon said. “I think we could put a little tango in, though. Mixing classic ballroom styles in with modern stuff has a cool effect most of the time.”

Taekwoon nodded, but Hakyeon got the distinct impression he wasn’t following fully, so he stood up and turned his back to Taekwoon; he drew himself up in front of the mirror and set his shoulders. A question popped into his head, and he looked back.

“Are you going to have backup dancers?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Taekwoon said. “Should I?”

“It helps,” Hakyeon said. “You should think about it. But for now, we’ll just hash something out to get some ideas. Can you start the song from the beginning?”

Taekwoon nodded again, standing and moving to the stereo; he restarted the track, and Hakyeon closed his eyes, picking up the rhythm and letting it sink into him. He started off slow, just a few steps, calling them out as he went.

“Tango,” he said, miming a partner and moving, “or you could throw a little kizomba in there for fun.” He heard the chorus coming up, and switched to a few more poppy elements, with sharp gestures and rolling motions. As soon as it moved to the second verse, he went back to the latin-flavored movements.

“All of this part looks better with a partner,” he informed Taekwoon. “Salsa you can kind of do flair on your own, but tango is definitely a pair.” The song ended, and he turned around. 

Taekwoon immediately started clapping, palms flat together. He looked impressed, which Hakyeon felt he did not entirely deserve, but he bowed regardless, smiling. It was nice to be appreciated.

“I can’t do any of that,” Taekwoon said as soon as he’d finished clapping.

“Yet,” Hakyeon pointed out. “We’re only on day four, don’t expect that much. You’re beat, we should stop for today anyhow.”

Taekwoon opened his mouth, then shut it.

“Fine,” he said with a sigh.

“Tomorrow,” Hakyeon started to promise, but Taekwoon frowned.

“Tomorrow you’re busy,” he said. Hakyeon remembered his underclassmen and gave a large sigh of his own. Taekwoon smiled.

“The day after tomorrow,” he amended, and Taekwoon’s smile got bigger. Hakyeon told himself it definitely did not give him warm fuzzy feelings. He was lying.

 

 

“We heard you’re cheating on us with a famous singer,” Jaehwan said accusingly as soon as he walked into the studio. Hakyeon sighed. These kids would be the death of him.

“I’m not—who even told you that?”

“Miss Luda,” Wonshik said. He was stretching on the floor, reaching for his toes, and Sanghyuk was ‘helpfully’ pushing on his back, but as soon as Hakyeon arrived, he stopped paying attention and just put his full weight on Wonshik.

“OW,” Wonshik yelped. “MY SPINE!” Sanghyuk quickly pulled some weight off.

Of course Luda would tell them, just to get them worked up enough to make Hakyeon’s life harder. He sighed and rolled his neck.

“Who is it?” Sanghyuk asked curiously. “Do we know them?”

“Is it Park Hyoshin?!” Hongbin said abruptly. “If it’s Park Hyoshin, I have to murder you, skin you, wear it, and take your place.” After a pause in which everyone stared at him, deeply disturbed, he added in an incredibly unconvincing tone, “I’m joking.”

“If it’s Park Hyoshin,” Jaehwan stage whispered in Hakyeon’s ear, “I don’t think you should tell him.”

“He’s—”

“Is it Jung Taekwoon?” Wonshik asked. Hakyeon must have looked alarmed, because he immediately followed up with, “Yeah, it’s Jung Taekwoon.”

“Don’t you have a huge boner for him?” Jaehwan asked.

“I think you mean crush,” Hongbin said.

“I definitely meant boner,” Jaehwan countered. 

“I do not have a boner or a crush, I just think he’s very talented!” Hakyeon said defensively.

“Hyung, every single playlist you have ever made has an absolute minimum of three of his songs on it,” Sanghyuk pointed out. “That’s a little intense.”

“Because he’s talented!”

“Also his CD jackets are the lock screen and wallpaper on your phone,” Wonshik commented. “And your ringtone.”

“I’ve seen his apartment,” Jaehwan informed them. “He has posters.” The group hissed and made gossipy noises while Hakyeon put his face in his hands and prayed for the floor to swallow him whole.

“ _You are all here to learn,_ ” Hakyeon reminded them sternly through his fingers.

“Yeah,” Hongbin said, making air quotes, “’Learn.’”

“Did you do your sexy dancing?” Jaehwan inquired brightly. “If not, you definitely should. Make the face too.”

“What face?” Hakyeon asked.

“You know, the smolder face! The one where you’re basically eye-fuc—”

“The one where you look very intense,” Wonshik interrupted. 

“I’m not dancing _for_ him, I’m _teaching_ him,” Hakyeon told them. “There’s no reason to... make that face.”

There was a collective sigh, for reasons Hakyeon did not entirely understand. He clapped his hands loudly and moved to the front part of the room, gesturing Sanghyuk towards the stereo.

“ _Anyway_ ,” he said. “Let’s get started. The new warm-up is a burner, brace yourselves.”

He’d been working with this class most of the term; they were made up of various years, but all were majoring in something performance related, and had a reasonable amount of experience already. If he was perfectly honest with himself, choreographing for them was incredibly satisfying because they would try anything, and all of them had the drive to perfect whatever they were given. When they were playing around, Hakyeon had to fight the urge to strangle them, but dancing?

They looked so good, he couldn’t help but be proud.

The routine they’d been working on for the past few weeks was very high intensity, high difficulty, and precise. It required a lot of moving in formation in addition to switching formations on a dime. He made sure to give every one of them a moment through the song to be front and center, a solo. They at least worked as hard as they played.

When they stopped for a much-needed water break and breather, Hakyeon grabbed his water bottle and squatted next to the stereo; as he checked his phone, he downed half the bottle in one go. Weird, he had a message from an unknown number.

He didn’t see Hongbin and Wonshik looking out the studio door in blatant surprise; he also didn’t seem them looking at him, then back out the door, then back at him.

“Hyung,” Hongbin called out.

“Gimme a sec Binnie, I’m reading,” he called back without looking up.

“I really think you should—”

“ _Reading_ , Hongbin,” he said more sharply.

_Sorry, I got your number from Minjun._

Hakyeon stood up abruptly.

_I know you’re doing stuff today, but are you busy all day?_

His heart was in his throat.

_I’ll be around the university, maybe we could do something?_

“HYUNG,” Jaehwan shouted. “JUNG TAEKWOON IS HERE!”

Hakyeon dropped his phone on the floor and whirled around. Sure enough, Taekwoon was in the doorway, ducking away from Jaehwan’s ridiculously overpowered voice. Hakyeon stood frozen in place, overwhelmed with shock. Jung Taekwoon was _here?!_ He became suddenly aware of the way the kids had tossed their bags messily along the wall; they always did, but it wasn’t until they had a _guest_ that he realized what a wreck the place looked like, especially compared to the beautiful studio the two of them had been working in. Jaehwan wasn’t shouting, but he was snickering very loudly.

“Uh,” Wonshik said in what Hakyeon was sure he thought was a helpful tone, from the floor, “Do you want some water?” He extended an unopened bottle with a smile.

“Oh, Wonshik,” Taekwoon said, surprised. “Wait, you go _here?_ ”

“Yup,” Wonshik confirmed with a nod. “I’ve been in this class for weeks, Hakyeon’s good.”

“Wait,” Hakyeon said, panicked. “Wait, you know him? You know each other!?”

“He’s my intern,” Taekwoon said, shrugging.

“I’m the _sound director’s_ intern,” Wonshik corrected with some irritation.

“He’s _my_ sound director’s intern,” Taekwoon countered immediately.

“Were you going to tell me this!?” Hakyeon said, pointing an accusatory finger at Wonshik. To his credit, Wonshik raised his eyebrows very high, glanced pointedly at Taekwoon then paused.

“No,” he said. The _you know why_ was implied.

Hakyeon had to admit, he did have a point. It would be pretty unprofessional to do something weird like bring Hakyeon along, or having him sign something, or—something. Anything.

He sighed.

“What are you doing here?” Hakyeon asked, moving to the door with a degree of trepidation; he had no idea what the kids would do, but he didn’t necessarily trust them not to make things embarrassing or awkward just for the fun of it. Wonshik probably wouldn’t, but the other three... they were frequently Up To Something.

“Did you get my messages?” Taekwoon asked softly, hands jammed nervously in his pockets again.

“Just now, sorry,” Hakyeon said sheepishly. “I don’t check my phone a lot on teaching days...”

“Oh,” Taekwoon said, turning red. “I was just—in the area.”

“Yeah, I saw—I saw that message,” Hakyeon said, smiling and hoping he was not as pink as he suspected he was. Judging by the increase in snickering, he was exactly that pink.

“Did you see the one after that?” Taekwoon asked, increasingly shy.

Before Hakyeon could answer, he saw Sanghyuk quietly attempting to get to Hakyeon’s phone by very slowly walking backwards towards the stereo; lightning quick, Hakyeon whipped around and intercepted, pinching him hard in the side. Sanghyuk yelped and backed away before Hakyeon could beat him further.

But then Hongbin tried to run for it, and Hakyeon had to neck chop him.

“ _Everybody sit down,_ ” he snapped. All three kids standing dropped; Wonshik was already on the floor, but his posture improved.

Taekwoon also sat abruptly, in the doorway.

“I didn’t mean you,” Hakyeon said.

“You said ‘everybody’,” Taekwoon pointed out a touch defensively.

Hakyeon looked at the ceiling and heaved a sigh.

“Are you?” Taekwoon said.

“Am I what?”

“...Nevermind,” Taekwoon said after quickly glancing around the room. He stood up, waving. “I’ll—see you tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Hakyeon said, reaching out. “I’m—we finish in about twenty minutes; I have to clean up the space, but it shouldn’t take very long, so... I’m not busy. After that.”

“We’ll clean up,” Hongbin said. Hakyeon blinked at him. His mouth was set in a stubborn line. “You can just go when we’re done.” Sanghyuk nodded firmly in agreement.

“Then... I guess I’m free in twenty minutes,” Hakyeon said. “I’m going to be pretty gross and sweaty though, I usually go straight home and shower.”

“Do... you want to do that first?” Taekwoon asked awkwardly. 

“I don’t live on campus anymore,” Hakyeon said, feeling equally awkward.

“I can pick you up,” Taekwoon offered.

“Where are we going?” Hakyeon asked.

“Dinner?” Taekwoon asked in a voice that sounded quite hopeful.

Hakyeon’s heart was thundering again. Taekwoon probably just wanted to hang out; he didn’t seem to have a lot of people around him, and they got along quite well. It was just a friendship thing. Not that he was upset by being friends, far from it—he just knew that this was going to intensify his crush even further. 

It was just _dinner_ , not a _date_.

“Sure,” he said, smiling. “Sounds great. I’ll text you my address.”

“Great,” Taekwoon said, returning the smile. “See you later, then?”

Hakyeon shot him a double-thumbs up; Taekwoon started to leave, but turned back.

“Wonshik,” he said. “See you.” He seemed to feel that saying goodbye specifically to the other person he knew in the room was particularly important.

Wonshik laughed at his awkward friendliness and waved; Taekwoon did leave after that, and as soon as the door shut and latched, all four kids turned to look at him and smile smugly.

“Aw, your first date!” Jaehwan said, clutching his hands to his heart.

“It’s not a date,” Hakyeon corrected him instantly. “It’s just—”

“He drove to campus and tracked you down to invite you to dinner,” Hongbin pointed out. “Pretty sure that’s a date.”

“He’s going to _pick you up_ ,” Wonshik added.

“Seems like a catch,” Sanghyuk said approvingly. “Nice job, hyung.”

“I hope you have something nice to wear,” Jaehwan said. “For your date.”

“We can drop this topic, or you can spend the next twenty minutes doing alternating sets of push-ups and sit-ups,” Hakyeon threatened. “Your choice.”

“I LOVE DANCING,” Jaehwan shouted. “DON’T YOU GUYS JUST LOVE DANCING? DANCING IS SO GREAT!”

“DANCING IS FANTASTIC,” Sanghyuk also shouted.

“Then let’s get back to it,” Hakyeon said with a huff.

 

 

Hakyeon was not dressing up, because it was not a date. He was dressing more-than-casual because he didn’t know where they’d be going. He was making sure his hair was perfect because it had been a bit disagreeable recently. He was dabbing a bit of cologne on his wrists and jaw because usually he probably smelled sweaty around Taekwoon and he wanted to make sure Taekwoon didn’t think he _always_ smelled like that.

Not that he was expecting Taekwoon to smell him or something. That would be tremendously weird. 

A nice (modest) v-neck, a nice scarf, nice slacks. Perfect for dinner. Wherever dinner was. It wasn’t even like he rarely dressed this way; he dressed this way when he didn’t have dance that day. It was just that he danced a lot.

 _I’m outside,_ Taekwoon texted him, so Hakeyon grabbed his bag and darted out the door; the first thing he saw was the car waiting.

Taekwoon leaned out the rear passenger window and waved.

“You’re not even driving?” Hakyeon asked as he approached.

“I’m not allowed to drive,” Taekwoon informed him.

“Why not?”

“Minjun said I’m a hazard. I get nervous changing lanes, so I wait too long and people get really mad.”

Hakyeon climbed in, expecting to see Minjun driving—but it wasn’t. 

“Hi,” a woman who looked strikingly like Taekwoon said with a smile. “You must be Hakyeon.”

“That’s me,” Hakyeon said, bobbing his head in an abbreviated bow. Taekwoon was moving one seat in so Hakyeon would have space to sit down. “Sorry, you’re—”

“Jung Aerin,” she said. “Thank you for taking care of my baby brother.”

“Your _sister_ is driving you around?!” Hakyeon said.

“I told you, I’m not allowed to drive!” Taekwoon whined. Aerin laughed, pulling away from the sidewalk.

“It’s my fault,” she explained. “I mentioned I was going to be around here and he asked to come along.”

“I was bored,” Taekwoon mumbled.

“Did you tell her you were inviting me out to eat?” Hakyeon asked sternly.

Taekwoon slouched in his seat.

“I don’t think _he_ knew he was inviting you out to eat until he’d done it. Right, Woon-ah?”

“I did think about it!” Taekwoon protested.

“Sure,” she said, sounding utterly unconvinced. “Whatever you say. I bullied him into letting me pick you up; I’ve heard so much about you, I wanted to meet you for myself.”

Hakyeon sat back in his seat, double-checking his seatbelt and trying to arrange his legs comfortably. He tended not to sit in the back of small cars; there was only so much space you could get before your knees were pushed up against the seat in front of you. He glanced at Taekwoon’s legs; they were equally squished.

“Why are you in the back seat?” Hakyeon asked, confused why Taekwoon wouldn’t take advantage of the extra leg room.

“You’re in the back seat,” Taekwoon said as if that explained it in any way whatsoever. When Hakyeon just stared at him, waiting for clarification, he turned away and looked steadfastly at the head rest in front of him. 

“Where was the place again Woon-ah?” his sister asked. “Near Jamsil, right?”

“A block away from the station,” he confirmed. She made a humming sound of agreement. 

No matter how he looked at it, Hakyeon felt like the situation had been made infinitely more awkward by having Taekwoon’s older sister present. He hadn’t been expecting a date, but there was a tiny part of him that hoped it would _lead_ to a date a little further down the line, maybe—instead, they had a literal chaperone.

Taekwoon was so weird sometimes.

As if sensing Hakyeon’s judgment, he turned.

“We’re taking a taxi back,” he said defensively.

Hakyeon sighed, sitting back in his seat in semi-uncomfortable silence. He just couldn’t shake the awareness that Taekwoon’s sister was _right there._ They weren’t even in a van or SUV, just a regular sedan. 

“You look nice,” Taekwoon said very quietly; it was so soft, Hakyeon almost didn’t hear it. He turned and found himself immediately in full eye contact because Taekwoon had leaned over across the middle-seat gap. He felt himself blushing, from both the compliment and the closeness; as soon as Taekwoon saw him coloring, he smiled that little pleased smile that made Hakeyon feel unreasonably warm.

“Thanks,” he said just as quietly. Embarrassed, he turned to the window, watching Seoul go by the glass as they headed towards Jamsil. His phone buzzed in his pocket; he pulled it out and saw alerts for the dance group chat.

_Jaehwanie: Betting pool has started!_  
_Kongbin: What are we betting?_  
_Jaehwanie: Whether they make out tonight, obviously._  
_Hyukkie: I’ll put 20,000 won on ‘nope’._  
_Kongbin: Same._  
_Wonshikkie: 30,000 won on yes!_  
_Kongbin: You sure? The odds are against you._  
_Wonshikkie: I believe in love, okay. This is almost a TV drama._  
_Jaehwanie: It really is, I’m with Wonshik. 40,000 won on yes!_

_It’s not even a date, you little snots,_ Hakyeon sent with significant irritation.

_Kongbin: Except that it totally is._

_His sister is driving us right now,_ Hakyeon added.

_Kongbin: That’s_  
_Jaehwanie: WEIRD_  
_Hyukkie: …_  
_Wonshikkie: Is she STAYING?_

_I hope not,_ Hakyeon said. _It’s already awkward._

He suddenly received a message from someone else: Taekwoon.

_I’m sorry_  
_Do you want to go home?_  
_I can tell her we’re here and you can get a taxi._

Hakyeon jerked his head up, looking at Taekwoon in surprise. What he saw made his heart twist: Taekwoon was holding his phone but looking at Hakyeon, a sad expression on his face. He forced a smile, which just made it worse somehow.

He was being a jerk, and Taekwoon was going to blatantly lie to his sister just to give Hakyeon an out.

Hakyeon held out his phone, making sure Taekwoon was watching, and powered it off.

“Where are we going?” he said brightly, conversational. “You never told me.” The relief that seemed to roll over Taekwoon made Hakyeon feel terribly guilty; he made a mental note: do better.

“Galbi,” Taekwoon said. “I like this place, it’s quiet.” Before Hakyeon could respond, Aerin pulled up in front of the building and turned back in her seat.

“We’re here,” she said. “Have fun! Taekwoonie, see you at Mom’s on Thursday?”

Taekwoon nodded aggressively in response; Hakyeon laughed.

“Thank you for the ride,” he said politely before climbing out of the car. Taekwoon was right behind him; Aerin waved as she pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” Taekwoon said immediately, arms crossed tightly. “I tried to talk her out of it but—”

“It’s fine,” Hakyeon said, putting a hand on Taekwoon’s wrist. “I was just surprised. Do you spend a lot of time with your family?”

“I try,” Taekwoon said softly. “They’re busy though.”

“Busier than you?” Hakyeon asked with surprise. They turned and started walking towards the front of the restaurant; Taekwoon pulled a mask out of his pocket and covered most of his face with it. He wasn’t _extremely_ famous, but nobody liked getting harassed during their free time. 

“I have three older sisters,” Taekwoon explained. “Getting everyone together is hard.”

“I have two sisters and a brother,” Hakyeon said. “Everyone is married, so that makes it even more complicated.” 

The restaurant staff seated them towards the back, in a quiet corner with a small grill. Hakyeon could see why Taekwoon would like it here; the volume overall was low, and the tables were spaced farther apart than usual for a galbi place. It wasn’t anything special price wise or even atmosphere, but it was comfortable in a way that Hakyeon understood. Taekwoon glanced up at him, nervous; Hakyeon just smiled, hoping it made up for his earlier rudeness.

 

 

“Why do you like dancing?” Taekwoon asked him somewhat abruptly. There had been a lull in the conversation which he decided to fill with a question that seemed to have been on his mind. Hakyeon paused in his grilling to consider it.

“It’s...” he started before trailing off. Why did he like it? Why did he devote years of his life to it, before and after university? Why did he want to keep doing it, for as long as his body would allow him? He had an answer, but it was somewhat embarrassing to admit.

“I like making people feel things,” he said softly. “Maybe it’s joy, or sadness, or attraction—whatever. If I can dance and someone sees it and it changes them, just a little bit or just for a little while, that’s... worth it.”

Taekwoon nodded in agreement.

“You can share a feeling,” he said. “For a moment, you’re all there, in the same feeling together.”

“Is that why you sing?” Hakyeon asked.

“Mostly,” Taekwoon said. “A little bit is just because it’s fun.”

“Fun is important too,” Hakyeon said. “Dance doesn’t look good at all if there’s no satisfaction in it.” A thought occurred to him suddenly. “Are you having fun?”

“Now?” Taekwoon asked, then before Hakyeon could correct him, “Yes.”

“No, I mean—thanks, but I meant dancing. When we dance.”

“When we dance,” Taekwoon said, nodding. “It’s still hard when it’s just me.”

“Wait, I’m confused,” Hakyeon said as he put up a hand. “Are you or are you not having fun dancing?”

“With you,” Taekwoon said. Hakyeon stared at him, waiting for him to continue; in rush, blushing, he finally added, “It’s fun with you.”

Hakyeon felt himself blushing too, and he wasn’t entirely sure why, except that Taekwoon said it so specifically it felt meaningful. Internally, he told himself to chill; looking at Taekwoon through ‘hopeless crush’ goggles made everything seem meaningful. Taekwoon was staring at him, which made Hakyeon think he was waiting for a response.

“I’m having fun too,” he said with as much sincerity as possible. He meant it more broadly: dancing, but also now. The smile he got in return warmed his heart all the way through; it was objectively small, but for what he’d seen of Taekwoon, it was a lot.

“What’s your favorite kind of dance?” Taekwoon asked him curiously, adding more meat to the grill. He had a considerable appetite considering how overall slim he was; Hakyeon wasn’t entirely sure how he managed it, but it seemed like dieting wasn’t something Taekwoon had any reason to do.

“I like a lot of styles, but contemporary is just so _flexible_ ,” he said. “You can use so many types of music and tell so many stories with your body. Ballet, ballroom, whatever—those are about doing it ‘correctly’ and less about doing it ‘creatively’. Contemporary is all about doing things different and taking risks. When it pays off, it’s really satisfying.”

“I...” Taekwoon started before trailing off. Hakyeon smiled, waiting for him to pick up his thought again; looking down shyly, he continued, “I watched you with your class for a little while.”

“You did?” Hakyeon asked, surprised. He tried to remember if the kids were doing well at the point when they were interrupted; they’d been working on that routine for a while, so they were probably okay. He didn’t think Taekwoon would judge him if they weren’t, but he’d rather be caught looking cool.

“Yeah,” Taekwoon continued. “You—they all were really fun to watch. It looked easy. I know it’s not, but it _looked_ like it was.”

“Those kids have been doing this for a while,” Hakyeon said gently. “It takes time to get good.”

“I’m never going to—”

“Don’t say that,” Hakyeon scolded gently. “You can, you just need to work on it, just like everyone else.”

“I might not stick with it,” Taekwoon said. “If it doesn’t go over well, my manager—the company thinks I should keep going with the ballads.”

“Is that what makes you happy?” Hakyeon asked.

“It used to,” Taekwoon said.

“But not anymore?”

“I have other ideas,” Taekwoon said. “I want to try new things.”

“It sounds to me like your company isn’t supporting you as an artist,” Hakyeon told him primly. 

“Not really,” Taekwoon sighed.

“Well, no matter what, if you want to keep dancing, keep dancing,” Hakyeon told him. Then, without thinking, he added, “I’ll keep teaching you as long as you want.”

“Really?” Taekwoon asked, his head jerking up in blatant surprise. Hakyeon blushed.

“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, it’s up to you of course, you could always switch to a better teacher—”

“You’re a great teacher,” Taekwoon told him, frowning. Hakyeon realized suddenly that he was being scolded and laughed; Taekwoon’s frown deepened, and Hakyeon waved his hand defensively.

“I’m sorry, just—I’m really not,” he explained. “I _just_ graduated, I haven’t really done anything noteworthy—”

“We’re both trying something new, then,” Taekwoon said.

“Something new,” Hakyeon repeated, aware he meant something else completely but not quite ready to admit it out loud.

 

 

Taekwoon lived in the same general direction of Hakyeon, so they decided to split a cab back to his place; it was a pretty quiet ride, both of them pleasantly full and getting a bit sleepy; Hakyeon’s wasn’t entirely sure when he dozed off, but when he woke up again, Taekwoon was out like a light—and his hand was on Hakyeon’s, across the middle seat.

Carefully, Hakyeon turned his hand so he could close his fingers around Taekwoon’s palm. It was warm and soft; as they pulled up in front of Hakyeon’s apartment, before he could pull away, Taekwoon woke up and glanced down in slight confusion.

Hakyeon blushed and attempted to let go, but Taekwoon shifted his fingers until it was much more obviously hand-holding. Hakyeon felt him squeeze, ever so gently, and smile.

“Thanks for coming,” he said very softly between them before letting Hakyeon go. Hakyeon scrambled out of the taxi and watched it (and Taekwoon) leave, waving.

His fingers were tingling, and his heart was pounding again.

“Thanks,” Hakyeon told the place where the taxi had been, smiling.

 

_Wonshikkie: How was your date?_  
_Jaehwanie: DID YOU KISS?_

_No. I think he held my hand?_

_Wonshikkie: Awwwww_  
_Jaehwanie: AWWWWW!_  
_Hyukkie: Hongbin-hyung just curled up in a ball of agonized cringing next to me._  
_Hyukkie: He might be dead, we should re-assign his parts._

Hakyeon snorted.

 

 

“Can we waltz today?” Taekwoon asked hopefully the next day. Hakyeon sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He’d come late, after a frustrating audition in the morning that still left him feeling irritated and clumsy. Taekwoon certainly wasn’t trying to test his patience, but his petulance and reluctance to knuckle down on some of the sharper points of the choreography they were creating was beginning to wear on Hakyeon.

“Why would we waltz?” he said, exasperated. “We’re trying to tango, if anything.”

“Waltzing is easier,” Taekwoon whined. Hakyeon took a deep, steadying breath.

“No,” Hakyeon corrected him, “I just wasn’t being terribly strict with you about waltzing. Waltzing is actually quite difficult.”

“Am I _bad_ at waltzing?” Taekwoon asked with concern. His pout was considerable.

“ _We are not trying to waltz today!_ ” Hakyeon snapped at him. Taekwoon actually flinched, with his hands coming up defensively. The guilt hit Hakyeon like a ten-ton truck; hadn’t he promised Taekwoon he _didn’t_ shout? 

Covering his face with both hands, Hakyeon forced an exhale. 

He was not expecting Taekwoon to come up so close to him, especially not so quickly or quietly. With one hand on Hakyeon’s elbow and the other on his wrist, Taekwoon pulled his hands down from his face gently. Hakyeon couldn’t look at him, face burning with embarrassment and shame.

“Are you okay?” Taekwoon asked him softly, in a tone that Hakyeon felt he absolutely did not deserve.

“I’m fine,” Hakyeon said, clipped. “I’m sorry for shouting, that was—it was very unprofessional. I apologize.”

“I’m being—”

“You’re doing absolutely nothing wrong and did not deserve to be yelled at,” Hakyeon cut him off. “This was my mistake, and mine alone.”

Taekwoon didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, but he also didn’t seem ready to let the issue drop, because his hands hadn’t pulled away; instead, the hand on Hakyeon’s wrist cautiously moved up his arm, then over his shoulder, and then hesitantly cupped Hakyeon’s face.

“You don’t seem okay today,” Taekwoon informed him.

“It’s really nothing,” Hakyeon said, still flushing with guilt.

“You can tell me,” Taekwoon told him. “I don’t mind.”

Hakyeon started to shake his head, but stopped. He remembered what he’d told Taekwoon on day one: they were partners, equals. If he wasn’t giving enough, Taekwoon deserved to know why. 

“I had an audition this morning,” he admitted. “It didn’t go well.”

“What do you mean?” Taekwoon probed gently.

“I mean it—they didn’t like it,” he said. “I took a risk and it bombed, big time. I really—I really wanted to land the part, but they hated it. Hated me. They—they asked me what I’d been doing for the past six years, if that was the best I had.” He paused, then added quietly, “I worked really hard on the piece, and it was a total failure.”

“Auditions are rough,” Taekwoon said sympathetically. “People can be really critical.”

“I don’t think it would bother me so much if I didn’t _want_ it so much,” Hakyeon explained. “It’s done, over. There’s nothing I can do now. I just—thought I was better at all of this, and I guess I was completely wrong.”

Taekwoon was silent, nodding in understanding. His hand on Hakyeon’s cheek was warm, and his thumb was brushing across Hakyeon’s cheekbone in a gentle, soothing gesture.

“You worked hard for it,” he said finally. “That’s important.”

“It doesn’t matter how hard I worked if all I got out of it was trash,” Hakyeon informed him with more than a little bitterness. As if he needed any more reason to think he was actually just deluding himself about what he could do.

The hand on Hakyeon’s face pulled away, moving down to grab his hand and pull. Taekwoon had turned his back and was tugging Hakyeon along with him. He hadn’t said a word about where he was taking them, not even pausing to put on their shoes.

“Where are we going?” Hakyeon asked him, but got no response; Taekwoon just continued leading him down the hallway until they got to the recording area. He pushed open the door, pulled Hakyeon in, and let it swing shut behind him. He then gestured at the electric piano against one side of the room.

“Sit down,” he said as he seated himself at the stool in front of the keys. Hakyeon sat in the plush chair in front of the mixing board; Taekwoon reached out a foot and hooked it on the bottom, pulling the chair closer to him. Hakyeon pulled his feet up and sat cross-legged, still not really sure what they were doing.

“Which song do you like?” Taekwoon asked him softly, running a quick scale down the keys without looking up.

“What?” Hakyeon said, confused.

“Which song of mine do you like?” Taekwoon asked. Hakyeon frowned; he liked so many that it seemed impossible to choose just one. He wracked his brain, trying to think of which one he came back to over and over again—which one stuck with him?

“I like _Us Now_ ,” he said quietly. It was one of the sweeter love songs that he put on any playlist where he wanted to feel something warm. Without any further prompting, Taekwoon immediately began playing it, fingers moving across the keys with an impressive speed considering he had close to a hundred songs all together, and this one wasn’t even that new.

“Sing it with me,” Taekwoon instructed him as they melody began.

“What?!” Hakyeon squeaked. “No!”

“Why not?”

“I’m not a singer!”

“Can you talk?”

“Yes—”

“Can you hum?”

“Of cour—”

“Then you can sing,” Taekwoon informed him, smug. It was only a few seconds later that the déjà vu set in; Hakyeon frowned at him, annoyed to have his words turned against him, but he’d already humiliated himself twice today; once more wasn’t going to do much in the long run.

Taekwoon sang the first verse alone, soft and airy; his voice was a little bit less polished than on an album, but by no means did it sound bad. Hakyeon let it wash over him, and as they came up on the chorus, Taekwoon dropped out, nodding at Hakyeon.

He sang.

Hakyeon knew he wasn’t a terrible singer, but he didn’t consider himself a particularly memorable one, either. Competent, pleasing, but forgettable. He sang to himself at home or at noraebang, and that was basically it. He’d done a handful of musicals in high school, but never with a starring or even main supporting role. Despite what he was certain must have been an extremely underwhelming performance, Taekwoon was _beaming_ at him. He picked up along with Hakyeon, the two of them singing together, every so often dipping into a harmony that sent goosebumps up Hakyeon’s arms.

The song came to an end, and Taekwoon turned in his chair to face Hakyeon.

“Did... that help?” Taekwoon asked him gingerly, looking at him with a hopeful expression. Hakyeon felt his heart squeeze.

“Are you trying to cheer me up?” he asked, touched. Taekwoon looked away, blushing shyly.

“Did it work?”

“...Yes,” Hakyeon said quietly. “Thank you.”

“You have a really nice voice,” Taekwoon said, smiling at him, and Hakyeon wondered how he could ever make it up to him.

 

 

Wonshik came into class nearly fifteen minutes late. Hakyeon stopped the put his hands on his hips, displeased.

“Kim Wonshik,” he said firmly. “You’d better have a good excuse for not even texting me this time.”

“Busy morning and dead phone battery,” Wonshik said immediately, tossing his bag and jacket against the wall. “I’m really sorry, I booked it to get here.”

Hakyeon was still frowning. This was the third class Wonshik had been late to, and he refused to elaborate on what he meant by a ‘busy morning’. Hakyeon tried not to pry, but he didn’t like the idea of dance competing with Wonshik’s time, especially if it was for something more important for his education than this class was.

“Stretch by yourself for a bit, we’re almost done,” Hakyeon told him. “Don’t rush it.” 

The ninety minutes flew by, as usual, and when everyone was done and collecting their things, Hakyeon sidled up to Wonshik and grabbed his elbow.

“Hold on, I want to talk to you,” he said. Wonshik pulled a face, but allowed himself to be pulled down to the floor, sitting facing Hakyeon.

“Hyung, I’m—”

“This class is an elective for you,” Hakyeon said, putting a hand on Wonshik’s knee. “Do you have something you need to do? I can get you an incomplete so your GPA won’t take a hit.”

“It’s not—that’s not exactly what’s going on,” Wonshik said with a sigh. “My internship just kind of... got expanded, I guess? It’s good, but I have a lot more to do now.”

“That sounds more important than this,” Hakyeon informed him. 

“The internship is,” Wonshik confirmed. “This extra stuff... it’s important, but not that important. I agreed to it because I thought it was going to be a pretty short-lived thing. I underestimated his commitment.”

“Who’s commitment?” Hakyeon asked, confused. “Your supervisor?”

“No, it’s—I’m helping somebody else, kind of as a favor I guess?” Wonshik said. “I told him I need to leave by a certain time so I can get here, but he’s super stubborn and really hates to end without finishing something.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a break from this?” Hakyeon said. “I’ll work it out with Luda, it’s really okay.”

“No, it’s fine,” Wonshik assured him. “Sorry to cause trouble. I think I need to just... put my foot down more.”

“Keep me updated,” Hakyeon told him. “The offer stands regardless.”

“Thanks,” Wonshik said sincerely. “I really don’t think I’ll need it, but I’ll keep it in mind.”

Hakyeon waved him off with a smile, but he still couldn’t quite shake his concern. Wonshik was a diligent student who tended to take on more responsibility than he could easily handle without thinking, simply because he tried to please people. This internship clearly meant a lot to him, and extended duties was definitely exciting, but...

Hopefully, he wouldn’t spread himself too thin.

As if he wasn’t worried enough, when he headed over to Taekwoon’s studio for a short evening practice, he discovered the singer borderline dead on his feet. He tripped three times during the warm up alone, and finally hit the floor so hard he seemed to lose the will to get back up again.

Hakyeon crouched over his prone form and poked his side.

“Hey,” he said. “What on _earth_ did you do today?”

“Nothing,” Taekwoon said in a voice that implied exactly the opposite.

“Oh come on, tell me,” Hakyeon said, poking again. 

“No,” Taekwoon insisted. “I can’t tell you.”

It hurt. The fact that it did surprised Hakyeon; it wasn’t like they were particularly close friends or something. Taekwoon had absolutely no responsibility to tell Hakyeon anything, and there was no reason why Hakyeon should have expected him to. The sting of it was completely irrational, but there it was: Taekwoon had secrets, and Hakyeon was not privy to them. Hell, he wasn’t even privy to _Wonshik’s_ secrets, and he’d known that kid for much longer.

Everyone left him out eventually. He was surprised it had taken this long to for him to remember that.

He snapped back into reality when Taekwoon’s hand cupped his cheek.

“Why are you sad?” he asked, and Hakyeon felt his breath skip.

“I don’t know,” Hakyeon told him. “It’s—it’s nothing, I’m fine.”

Taekwoon looked skeptical, but when Hakyeon pulled away and went back to the stereo, he didn’t follow.

“Let’s call it a day,” Hakyeon said without looking back. “You’re beat, we won’t make any progress like this.”

“I’m sorry,” Taekwoon said, but Hakyeon just turned and smiled at him.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said as his heart squeezed. “Get some rest, I’ll see you on Monday.”

He gathered his things quietly and left without saying anything more. The dart of loneliness stayed with him the rest of the night.

 

 

Over the weekend, Hakyeon kept compulsively picking up his phone and checking his messages. There was no reason to anticipate one coming from Taekwoon, but the little part of him that still got a thrill about having Taekwoon’s number in the first place hoped that maybe Taekwoon was thinking about Hakyeon at least half as often as Hakyeon was thinking about him. 

This crush was getting ridiculous, he really needed to get over it.

By Sunday evening, Hakyeon finally couldn’t take it anymore. 

_Hi!_ he texted. _Hope you’re having a good weekend!_ Upon rereading the message, Hakyeon was hit by sudden cringing regret. What a stupid thing to _say_. He curled up in a ball on his bed, wishing desperately he could somehow go back in time and swat his phone out of his own hand.

Then his phone chirped. He had a new message.

 _I’m at my mom’s,_ Taekwoon replied. _This is my nephew!_ He’d attached a picture of a little boy, about two years old, sitting in his lap. They were both smiling, but Taekwoon’s smile was easily the biggest one Hakyeon had ever seen on his face before.

 _You’re adorable! ♥!_ he sent back. An instant later, he registered how the emoji, or the statement, or both, could be taken to mean a variety of things. Even he wasn’t totally sure which one he meant.

 _Aerin says you should come over with me sometime and meet him,_ Taekwoon answered, seemingly not bothered by the heart. _He’s the cutest human being to ever be born._

Hakyeon laughed; even through text, he could hear Taekwoon’s voice in his head, being absolutely certain that what he was saying was 100% scientifically demonstrated truth. Then the invitation sunk in; come over? To Taekwoon’s _parents’_ house? _With him?_ Was that a thing Taekwoon’s other friends did? Wasn’t it weird? Why was he simultaneously confused and excited?

Why did he feel _special?_

 _That sounds really fun!_ he sent back. _I’m not sure my ego can handle being the third-cutest person in the room though._

Okay, now he was just blatantly flirting.

_You mean second. Then you’ll know how I feel every day with you._

Hakyeon dropped his phone. What?! What kind of statement was that?! Was he teasing?! He had to be teasing, there was no way he meant that in any particular way, right? Hakyeon was just hearing what he wanted to hear. It was a joke, not... a compliment. Taekwoon definitely wasn’t flirting _back_.

Right?

 _GUYS,_ he texted the group chat urgently. _I NEED A LITTLE HELP._

_Kongbin: You need a lot of help_  
_Kongbin: but realizing it is the first step, I’m proud of you hyung._

_Don’t sass me, I’m serious!_ Hakyeon shot back.

_Hyukkie: I think asking us for help in basically any capacity is probably not the wisest choice._  
_Wonshikkie: ouch, speak for yourself._  
_Jaehwanie: I’m super helpful!_  
_Kongbin: No, Sanghyuk is right, we can only make the situation worse._

_LOOK,_ Hakyeon typed urgently. _Taekwoon sent me a message and don’t know how to answer it? Or what he means? Or if I’m just a sasaeng with manners?_

_Kongbin: You are._  
_Hyukkie: You are._  
_Wonshikkie: oh yeah no, you totally are_  
_Jaehwanie: Wait, did you not know you are?_

Hakyeon looked at the ceiling and prayed for patience. He took a screencap of the conversation starting from Taekwoon’s message about being at his mother’s and sent it to them anxiously.

_Jaehwanie: WOW_  
_Hyukkie: Very subtle with the emoji there hyung, very subtle._  
_Wonshikkie: you’re really going for it hard but it looks like he’s there for it so wth_  
_Kongbin: I just dry-heaved._  
_Wonshikkie: what are you talking about, it’s adorable_  
_Kongbin: No, it’s definitely gross._  
_Wonshikkie: :( because it’s two dudes?_  
_Kongbin: NO, BECAUSE IT’S HAKYEON-HYUNG_  
_Kongbin: YOU OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD KNOW THAT_  
_Hyukkie: Okay, you two can have your lover’s quarrel in DMs, okay?_  
_Kongbin: EXCUSE ME?!_

_GUYS_ , Hakyeon interrupted. _I’VE LEFT HIM HANGING FOR SEVERAL MINUTES ALREADY_

_Jaehwanie: I have an idea!_  
_Hyukkie: Oh this should be good._  
_Jaehwanie: Now, hear me out: maybe you could flirt back._  
_Wonshikkie: that’s fucking genius!_  
_Kongbin: How do I ban myself from this conversation?_

_Flirt back?!_ Hakyeon said, wincing. _How?!_

_Wonshikkie: idk, you were doing pretty good for a while there_  
_Wonshikkie: maybe just keep doing that?_

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Wonshik had a point. It wasn’t like Hakyeon didn’t know how to flirt, he’d just been operating under the assumption it would fall on deaf ears. Now that there seemed to be the possibility that maybe it _wasn’t_...

 _I mean, I guess it’s worth a shot, right?_ he said. _What’s the worst that could happen?_

_Kongbin: He could fire you._  
_Kongbin: Oh wait, you meant that rhetorically, sorry._  
_Kongbin: I’m sure it’ll be fine!_

_Right,_ Hakyeon said, choosing to ignore Hongbin. _Just flirt back. I can do that, I’m a total flirt!_

_Jaehwanie: You definitely are! ;)_  
_Hyukkie: *I’m a damn tease!_  
_Hyukkie: You had a typo, I fixed it, you’re welcome._

Hakyeon took a deep breath and went back to his messages with Taekwoon. Before he could type anything else, a new message arrived.

_Sorry, that was weird, wasn’t it._  
_Forget it._

_Honestly, I’m disappointed,_ Hakyeon wrote back. If Taekwoon really was... flirting, Hakyeon wanted him to know it was appreciated and returned. The best way he knew of to do that was just to have fun with it. _I’m trying to teach you something, and you’re telling me the only thing you pay attention to is my face?_

_I’m sorry_

_After all this time, you still haven’t realized my butt is clearly my best feature?_ Hakyeon continued. _My booty is wasted on you._

_No!_  
_It’s not, I just_  
_I noticed_

_And?_ Hakyeon prompted. _Be honest: my booty is popping._

 _I’m not going to deny that,_ Taekwoon informed him. Hakyeon knew he was blushing, but thankfully, there was no indication through text. It definitely felt flirtatious; Hakyeon tried to temper his excitement and remind himself they’d only known each other a little while, but... Taekwoon had looked at his butt with appreciation at least once. That was pretty gay, right?

_I like your face more though_  
_especially when you smile._

Hakyeon had no idea what was going on anymore, because there was basically no way for this to be platonic and he wasn’t sure what to do with the fact that this was now without question flirting. Taekwoon was flirting. Jung Taekwoon was hitting on him, via text message, while he was at a family function.

He didn’t know what to do with the warmth pooling in his chest and the heat in his cheeks.

_It’s time for dinner, I have to go._  
_Talk to you later maybe?_

_Eat lots, get nice and chubby so you have something to burn off next week,_ Hakyeon instructed him. _I expect cheeks I can pinch on Monday!_

Taekwoon sent him a thumbs-up emoji, and Hakyeon felt his heartbeat in his ears. He was still havigng trouble believing it; he had no idea what Taekwoon could have possibly seen in him, but apparently there was _something._ How long had he been sending out signs Hakyeon had either missed, or chosen to ignore?

“You _did_ hold my hand,” Hakyeon said, in wonder.

 

When Taekwoon said “later” Hakyeon hadn’t quite anticipated him to literally mean “later today”; he’d been lying in bed with a book when his phone buzzed so suddenly it startled him. He caught it just before it fell off the nightstand.

It was Taekwoon.

And he wanted to _FaceTime._

“Wow,” Hakyeon said as he accepted the request and a low-quality Taekwoon took over his screen. “You must be really bored.”

“A little,” Taekwoon admitted. He was clearly in the dark, a blanket pulled over his head and his earbuds in his ears. He wasn’t quite whispering, but his already quite soft voice was even softer; he seemed to be lying on his stomach with his arms crossed, the phone propped up in front of him.

“Are you staying over? Don’t your parents live in Seoul?” Hakyeon asked him, rolling on his side.

“My dad likes us all to stay,” Taekwoon said. “He makes pancakes in the morning.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Hakyeon said with a coo.

“I’m on the sofa,” Taekwoon informed him. “My sister’s family gets the guest room.”

“Is it at least a nice sofa?” Hakyeon asked.

“It’s not as long as me,” Taekwoon said with a slight whine. “My feet hang off the end.”

“That’s what you get for being so long,” Hakyeon said with a mock sniff of disdain. 

“You’re not short either,” Taekwoon reminded him.

“Why are you facetiming me at 11pm from your parents’ couch, Taekwoon?” Hakyeon asked him. “I’m not complaining, I’m just—why?”

“I’m bored,” Taekwoon repeated.

“Twitter and Instagram are quite entertaining,” Hakyeon suggested primly.

“I already looked at those.”

“You looked at _everything_ on Twitter _and_ Instagram? Wow.”

“I haven’t seen you since Friday,” Taekwoon mumbled into his crossed forearms. Hakyeon blinked, trying to determine if this was relevant information, and why Taekwoon would bring it up if it was.

“I know,” Hakyeon said dryly. “I was there.”

Taekwoon huffed; his hair was rumpled from the blanket over his head. Hakyeon’s fingers itched to reach out and settle it for him.

“You didn’t stay very long,” Taekwoon added. He seemed a bit annoyed about it, almost petulant.

“You were exhausted,” Hakyeon said. “I was pretty tired too.” Taekwoon hummed his agreement, but didn’t follow it up with any comment, leaving Hakyeon to wonder, again, what the point of facetiming was. Before he could get the question out—again—Taekwoon broke the silence.

“You were sad,” he said. “You’re not—are you still sad?”

“Wait,” Hakyeon said, somewhat in disbelief. “Are you _checking_ on me?”

“You were _really_ sad,” Taekwoon said defensively into his arms. Hakyeon covered his face with one hand, hoping to hide the pleased flush on his face as much as possible. He was melting, inside and out, over a man who apparently had been worrying about him for two days. A man who had finally reached out because he couldn’t wait another twelve or so hours to see him in person. From his parents’ couch in the middle of the night.

“I’m not sad now,” Hakyeon told him very sincerely. “Thank you for checking.”

“Is it weird for me to—should I not?”

“Not what?”

“Worry about you,” Taekwoon said with a great deal of uncertainty. “You’re just usually really... not sad.”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Hakyeon told him with a warm smile. “I’m sorry I worried you over something silly, but it’s not—I don’t mind.”

“So you know why you were sad now? You didn’t before.”

Hakyeon had known, on some level, but he also knew he didn’t want to tell Taekwoon. It was something so small and stupid in the grand scheme of things, especially now that there seemed to be a whole new realm of possibilities for them opening up. He smiled.

“I figured it out, but it’s silly,” he explained. “I’m not sad about it now.”

“You’re okay?” Taekwoon asked. “Really?”

“I am better than okay,” Hakyeon told him. “I’m being facetimed from Jung Taekwoon’s sofa. This is the best day of my life as your most devoted fan.”

“It’s my parents’ sofa,” Taekwoon corrected. He paused for a moment before adding a quiet, nervous question: “Is that how you think of this? Me as an idol, and you as a fan?”

“Of course not,” Hakyeon assured him. “We’re—you’re my friend.”

“I’m your friend,” Taekwoon repeated. “We’re friends.”

“Aren’t we?” Hakyeon asked back.

“We are,” Taekwoon said. His mouth was still blocked by his arms, but Hakyeon knew he was smiling by the way his eyes crinkled up. He was so _cute._

“Aren’t you sleepy?” Hakyeon asked him. “It’s getting late.”

“I can’t sleep,” Taekwoon sighed. “It’s—I miss home.”

“Your parents’ house—”

“It’s not the one I grew up in,” Taekwoon explained. “They moved a couple of years ago. I’ve never lived here, so it feels... weird.”

“How does calling me help?” Hakyeon asked with a chuckle.

“Your voice,” Taekwoon murmured. Hakyeon almost didn’t catch it; his expression must have indicated as much, because he repeated it slightly louder. “Your voice.”

“What about my voice?” Hakyeon asked, confused.

“I like it,” Taekwoon said. “It’s really warm.”

“Do you want me to read you a bedtime story or something?” Hakyeon snorted. “I’m afraid I only have a mystery novel at hand. Not a scary one though, I’d never be able to sleep.”

“No story,” Taekwoon said, smiling. “Just hearing you.” Every time he blinked, it seemed to last longer than before; Hakyeon watched, amused, as Taekwoon visibly drifted off, apparently to the sound of his voice.

“Sleep well,” Hakyeon told him gently, fairly certain Taekwoon wasn’t awake anymore. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Enjoy your pancakes.”

Just before he ended the call, there was a very quiet mumble.

“G’night,” Taekwoon said. Hakyeon waited a few seconds to see if there was more, but when it became obvious that he was actually out this time, he hung up.

Suddenly, tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

 

“How were your pancakes?” Hakyeon greeted Taekwoon the next day. He ducked his head shyly, but Hakyeon could see him smiling.

“Flat,” he said. “Round.”

“How revolutionary!” Hakyeon said with an exaggerated gasp.

“My nephew likes Pororo, so my dad tried to make a Pororo-shaped one, but it came out really weird and scary looking, so I ate it,” Taekwoon informed him. 

“A noble sacrifice, I’m sure,” Hakyeon said, nodding seriously. Taekwoon stretched his arms up over his head with a yawn; his shirt hiked up just enough to show his stomach. Hakyeon had to consciously force his eyes away. He cleared his throat.

“Can we—”

“No waltzing,” Hakyeon interrupted him.

“I know,” Taekwoon sighed. “That wasn’t my question.”

“Oh, sorry,” Hakyeon responded sheepishly. “Go on.”

“Can we run the whole thing, top to bottom today?” Taekwoon asked. “We’ve only done it part by part so far. I want to try it all.”

“We still don’t have a partner for you for the tango parts, so it’s not going to look _quite_ right,” Hakyeon reminded him. Taekwoon smiled.

“You can be my partner,” he informed Hakyeon. 

“Me?!”

“You can’t?” Taekwoon asked, looking crestfallen. It wasn’t that he _couldn’t_ , so much as he probably _shouldn’t_ , for a variety of reasons, ranging from ‘I need to be able to critique and correct you as you go’ to ‘the tango is sexy and I might actually die.’

“Okay,” his mouth said without consulting his brain in any way whatsoever. Taekwoon’s face lit up and Hakyeon felt his heart squeeze again. What the hell was he _doing!?_

Taekwoon had the stereo ready to go in what felt like mere seconds; he came back to Hakyeon in the center of the room, arms extended. Hakyeon blinked at him.

“We haven’t warmed up yet,” he pointed out. Taekwoon flushed.

“Oh,” he said, dropping his arms. “Right. Sorry.”

“You’re very excited to do this,” Hakyeon commented, amused by Taekwoon’s unexpected enthusiasm. Taekwoon didn’t answer, but he did get redder, which in turn made Hakyeon laugh. He put a hand on face and patted gently. “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“It is fun,” Taekwoon said. “You’re here.”

Hakyeon crossed his arms, doing his best to look annoyed.

“If you keep that up, I might fall in love with you,” he said with a sniff.

“You’re not already?” Taekwoon pouted. “I’ll try harder.”

Hakyeon tried to keep up his annoyed expression, but judging by the smug smile on Taekwoon’s face, he wasn’t doing it very well. Instead of go into it any further, Hakyeon started their warmup. Taekwoon was quite good at it now, and he’d loosened up significantly from when they started, so they’d been using a slightly harder routine. It was faster and more intense, but Taekwoon never complained during the warmup; he whined sometimes after, but while they were working, he was focused.

They ended the warmup and stopped for water. Hakyeon went back to the stereo, bending down to fiddle with the volume and find the track they’d been working on.

“Hakyeon,” Taekwoon called across the room.

“Hmm?”

“I’m noticing,” he said. Hakyeon straightened and looked at him, confused. There was a very small, very smug little smirk on his face, and in the few seconds it took for Taekwoon’s statement to sink in, Hakyeon suddenly remembered their conversation the night before.

“Good,” Hakyeon said with a smirk of his own. “Appreciate it.” He then turned his back, gave a little shimmy, and smacked his own butt before going back to what he was doing. He was treated to the sound of Taekwoon’s sharp, sudden laughter. He turned around again and moved to the center of the room, arms extended. Taekwoon was still cackling, so Hakyeon huffed and waved his hands insistently.

“Come on, this was your idea,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Finally, Taekwoon seemed to get a hold of himself; he went to Hakyeon, but paused just before the hold.

“What?” Hakyeon said. “Did you forget? Fine, I’ll show you.” He placed Taekwoon’s hand on his back, then took his free one. When he stepped in close, as a proper tango should be, he could feel Taekwoon stiffen uncomfortably. Hakyeon pulled back to frown at him.

“This is really close,” Taekwoon mumbled.

“It’s _tango_ ,” Hakyeon reminded him. “Latin dances are all close.”

“Waltz is—”

“Waltz is romantic,” Hakyeon informed him. “A waltz says ‘I respect you and our relationship, you are my equal and I appreciate you and how complimentary we are.’ Tango says ‘I’m going to dance the way I want to bang you later.’”

“You want to bang me later?!” Taekwoon squeaked in alarm.

“No, I’m following, remember?” Hakyeon said. “ _You_ want to bang _me_ later.”

Taekwoon didn’t seem to have anything to add to that, because he looked resolutely over Hakyeon’s shoulder, avoided eye-contact, and started to move incredibly stiffly and awkwardly. Leaning back, Hakyeon raised an eyebrow at him.

“Is there a problem?”

“What?” Taekwoon asked, seeming distracted.

“A problem,” Hakyeon repeated. “You’re dancing like none of your limbs have joints.”

“No, it’s just—this is really different from the waltz,” he mumbled. “I knew it was going to be close with the female dancer, but I didn’t think...”

“Again,” Hakyeon sighed, “Latin dance is different.” Taekwoon continued looking very uncomfortable, so Hakyeon pulled out of his hold.

He sat down, and patted the floor next to him.

“Let’s talk,” he said gently. Taekwoon settled, hands in his lap and eyes down. Hakyeon put a hand on his knee and put the other hand under Taekwoon’s chin, raising his head.

“Is this too uncomfortable for you?” he asked softly. “It seems like you’re having a hard time with it when you have an actual partner. We can still change it, if you want something with a little more space.”

“It’s just... a lot more...”

“Intimate?” Hakyeon suggested. 

“Yeah,” Taekwoon said, blushing. Hakyeon patted his knee.

“That’s okay,” he said. “You can have boundaries, you know. I don’t expect you to like everything; in fact, if you don’t, you should absolutely tell me so we can adjust it.”

“You’ve already put so much time into this,” Taekwoon started, but Hakyeon shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter if I did,” Hakyeon told him. “This isn’t about me dancing, it’s about you. If you don’t like it, then we should scrap it. I want dancing to be fun for you, remember?”

Taekwoon nodded, but as soon as Hakyeon pulled his head back, his head dropped again. It was hard to say if he was upset, shy, or both. He wanted Taekwoon to relax, first and foremost; they wouldn’t make any more progress today if he was just a ball of nerves.

“I want to try,” Taekwoon blurted out. “I’m just—not used to it, I think.”

“Really?” Hakyeon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Can—can we just practice it? Without the choreography, or my music, just...” 

“If you want to,” Hakyeon said. “You just want to move around tango-style for a bit, ease into it?”

“Yeah,” Taekwoon said. “Does that make sense?”

“Sure,” Hakyeon replied, smiling. “I like it!”

They stood up; Hakyeon went back to the stereo, changing the music from Taekwoon’s new track to some Latin things he had on his phone already. He’d put a bunch of them back on recently, so he could practice on his own. He wasn’t terrible at ballroom, but it had never been his strong suit; there was always room for improvement. He trotted back to Taekwoon; this time, Taekwoon set up the hold without prompting. He was red in the face again, but his eyes burned with determination, sending a thrill down Hakyeon’s spine.

“Let’s just move, okay?” Hakyeon instructed him. “Just get used to holding me.”

Taekwoon bit his lip, but the hand on Hakyeon’s body (which had up to this point been high on his shoulder blade) moved lower, almost to the small of his back. When they finally started moving, Hakyeon gave very rough approximations of the proper footwork, trying to focus more generally on the tone of tango. Taekwoon, for his part, finally seemed to understand he should be looking at his partner’s face, because his eyes were glued on Hakyeon. Curious about his reaction, Hakyeon lifted Taekwoon’s arms to allow himself to spin—and finish the spin with his back against Taekwoon’s chest. Hakyeon kept his arms crossed in front of him so Taekwoon would know where to put his hands, but Taekwoon’s steps rather surprisingly didn’t falter.

Even more surprising, he dropped his head until his nose was nearly behind Hakyeon’s ear. They didn’t touch, but Hakyeon could feel Taekwoon’s breath against his skin.

“You adjust fast,” Hakyeon commented with a smile.

“To you,” Taekwoon replied against his hair. The arms Hakyeon were holding across his front tightened, and when Hakyeon raised one of his hands up, up, up to rest gently on the back of Taekwoon’s neck, his arms tightened more, pressing them together with no space between Hakyeon’s back and Taekwoon’s chest.

It was a terrible tango hold, but Hakyeon was having an increasingly hard time caring. 

“This isn’t tango,” Hakyeon murmured, just in case Taekwoon did.

“I figured,” Taekwoon said, his hands settling on Hakyeon’s hips. “Don’t care.”

Well, in that case.

Hakyeon rolled his hips, just a little, just _enough._ Taekwoon made a soft sound in Hakyeon’s ear, so he did it again. He wasn’t totally sure where he was going with this, only that he hadn’t expected them to ever do anything like this. For one thing, Hakyeon had thought he was slightly more professional than to essentially grind on a client. In his defense, he hadn’t expected to get a client who was both frustratingly hot and at least somewhat into him.

Abruptly, Taekwoon made a new sound and pulled his hands free; he took a big step backwards, and when Hakyeon turned around to look at him questioningly, his face was bright red. He’d also dropped his hands to cross tightly just below his belt.

Oops.

“I’m... guessing you are even more uncomfortable than before,” Hakyeon said delicately. He got a single curt nod in response, and Taekwoon was staring at the floor as if he could burn a hole in it with his eyes and jump in.

“Maybe we should call that good for today,” Hakyeon suggested. He received another curt nod. He supposed that was more than fair, considering, and it wasn’t like he was completely unaffected either; his heart rate was much too high for something as low-energy as... whatever they had been doing. Hakyeon went to get his phone with a sigh; when he turned around, Taekwoon had gone, presumably fled to the recording area to be mortified in private.

Hakyeon sighed.

 

 

“How many times do you have to grind on someone before you know they’re into you?” Hakyeon asked Jaehwan. Jaehwan raised an eyebrow at him.

“Aren’t you supposed to know that _before_ you grind?” he said, stuffing his mouth with a breadstick. Hakyeon blushed; he had a point. He still felt like he’d just been following Taekwoon’s lead, right up until the end of it. Taekwoon certainly wasn’t opposed to what they were doing.

“I wish boners were _meaningful_ ,” Hakyeon sighed, “instead of just... you know. There.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jaehwan said with a sniff. “My boners are poetic. I’m an artist with my dick.”

“Why did you guys invite me again?” Hongbin said with open hostility. “I do not want to be a part of this discussion.”

“We invited you to pizza,” Hakyeon reminded him.

“I didn’t know it was going to be pizza _plus boners_ ,” Hongbin grumbled.

“I have definitely gotten a boner because of pizza before,” Jaehwan informed the table.

“Well, yeah,” Hongbin said, “Who hasn’t? It’s pizza.”

“I just don’t exactly know what to do now,” Hakyeon said with a heavy sigh. “Should I just pretend like it didn’t happen? Should I make him talk about it? That feels kind of like bullying him.”

“How about you just don’t talk about it starting from—” Hongbin glanced at his watch, “—right now.”

“Look, you like him, right?” Jaehwan said. Hakyeon nodded. “Then why don’t you just go with that?”

“He’s kind of my _boss_ ,” Hakyeon reminded him.

“And? You already semi-deliberately gave him a boner, I think if he intended to fire you, you’d be unemployed by now.”

“Man, you’re so lucky there’s no HR involved in this,” Hongbin said, shaking his head. “You’d be _screwed._ ”

“ _Guys_ ,” Hakyeon said urgently. “ _Focus._ ”

“Where’s Wonshik?” Hongbin asked, “He’d be better at this probably.” 

“I dunno,” Jaehwan said with a tremendous pout. “He’s not answering my texts.”

“Oh, maybe he’s doing his lesson now,” Hongbin said, squinting. Hakyeon frowned.

“Lesson? What’s he taking?” Hakyeon asked, trying to recall if Wonshik had mentioned any specific classes other than dance.

“Not taking,” Jaehwan said, “Teaching. Apparently.”

“He’s teaching?” Hakyeon said, surprised. “Weird, he didn’t tell me.”

“I don’t think he really told anyone, we just found out,” Hongbin said with a shrug. “He had to bail on plans a few times and when we asked what the deal was, he told us he was teaching somebody and the schedule is kind of random.”

“Huh,” Hakyeon said. “I wonder if that conflicts with his internship.”

Hongbin and Jaehwan shared a look.

“What?” Hakyeon asked defensively.

“Why don’t you ask him to explain it next time?” Jaehwan suggested in a way that sounded suspiciously condescending to Hakyeon’s ears. “I’m sure you’ll have questions.”

“Wait, we still haven’t figured out what I’m going to do with Taekwoon!” Hakyeon yelped.

“I really don’t want to know what you’re going to do with Taekwoon,” Hongbin said grimly. “In fact, from here on out, please keep me _out_ of the loop.”

“Talk to him, or come onto him,” Jaehwan advised sagely. “Oh, and maybe bribe him with something! You never know!”

 

 

“Hi,” Hakyeon said awkwardly, standing in the doorway to the recording studio. “I brought chicken.”

Taekwoon was curled up in the big studio chair with the back turned to the door. The only reason Hakyeon knew he was there was because he could see his headphones over the head rest. He also knew Taekwoon was listening: he flinched at the sound of Hakyeon’s voice.

“I’m just... going to come in,” Hakyeon continued, cautiously entering. Taekwoon didn’t turn around, but Hakyeon couldn’t really blame him after the way things ended the other day. He put the box of chicken on a low table in the corner, then sat down on the sofa facing Taekwoon’s back.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Hakyeon said. “You don’t have to turn around, nothing. I’m just... going to talk.” He got no response, but he wasn’t really expecting one, so he sat with his elbows braced on his knees, hands up and fingers knit.

“I’m sorry for what happened the other day,” he said quietly. “Okay, actually—I’m sorry that got kind of out of hand. It wasn’t professional, or responsible, and I didn’t ask for your permission to... do anything. That’s unacceptable, and I’m very, very sorry about that.”

Taekwoon still hadn’t turned around.

“I was—caught up,” Hakyeon said. “In the moment, in you—it was fun and sexy and I didn’t stop to think about the consequences. I should have. I should have thought about what I was doing and realized I was being incredibly selfish and arrogant. Ego. It was stupid. I’m stupid. I’m—”

His voice wobbled, and he took a deep breath to steady it.

“I kind of tricked myself into seeing something where there isn’t anything, so I ended up making some foolish decisions. I regret those now.”

“What part?” Taekwoon asked suddenly from the chair. Hakyeon blinked, not expecting an interruption.

“What part do I regret?” he asked, hoping for clarification. When he got nothing, he assumed he’d nailed it. “I regret... making you uncomfortable. I regret not stepping back when it was clear we weren’t dancing anymore.”

He dropped his head and his voice.

“I regret betraying your trust.”

“I’m not a kid, you know,” Taekwoon said. He turned the chair ninety degrees but didn’t look at Hakyeon. “It’s not like I couldn’t have pushed you away if I wanted.”

Hakyeon stared at him.

“I knew what you—what we were doing,” he continued. “I’m technically your _boss_ , but I—took advantage of you.”

“Whoa, hold on,” Hakyeon said, “You didn’t assault me or anything.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Taekwoon snapped back. “I meant—I shouldn’t have assumed anything.”

“I humiliated you,” Hakyeon said quietly. Taekwoon turned fully, meeting Hakyeon’s gaze.

“I humiliated myself,” he corrected. “In front of you. I regret _that_. I should probably regret everything else, like you do, but I don’t.”

“I don’t regret _everything_ ,” Hakyeon shot back. 

“So why regret anything?” Taekwoon countered.

“Because you were—”

“Embarrassed,” Taekwoon said. “I’m embarrassed roughly 45% of the time I’m alive. This isn’t new.”

Hakyeon gaped at him, completely surprised at the turn the conversation had taken. Was Taekwoon... not angry? Was he just being nice, or was he genuinely saying Hakyeon had nothing to apologize for? 

“Are we... okay?” Hakyeon asked, somewhat in disbelief.

“Are you?” Taekwoon asked. “I’m fine.”

“I’m—I’m having a hard time understanding why you’re not firing me, to be honest,” Hakyeon said. “Not that I want to be fired, but I think ethically you should probably can me.”

“I already knew you were hot,” Taekwoon pointed out.

“Is _that_ why you picked me!?” Hakyeon squeaked.

“...It was a factor,” Taekwoon said evenly. 

“Okay,” Hakyeon said, putting his face in his hands. “Okay, look, we just. We should set down some boundaries.”

Taekwoon pulled a face.

“If we intend to make any progress on the actual work, it’s not going to get done without _rules,_ ” Hakyeon said firmly. 

“That sounds annoying,” Taekwoon informed him. He reached out to open the box of fried chicken with a look of extreme concentration. Ripping the top off, he put it to the side as a plate and started laying out pieces.

“It’s _important_ ,” Hakyeon pressed, “I don’t want it to happen again!”

Taekwoon looked up from the chicken; his expression had changed from one of irritation to... something that almost looked like disappointment. Hakyeon felt a pang, but he was certain he was just misreading Taekwoon, _again._

“You don’t?” he said quietly, and suddenly Hakyeon’s certainty seemed less than solid.

“...You do?” Hakyeon said, equally quiet, equally hesitant.

Taekwoon looked back down at the box, silent. Hakyeon remembered the way Taekwoon’s hands had settled on his hips, comfortably, like they belonged there. He remembered Taekwoon’s breath behind his ear, his voice, the heat of his chest—

“Here,” Taekwoon said, breaking the silence to hold up a drumstick. “Eat.”

Hakyeon stared at him, baffled. Taekwoon lowered the drumstick.

“No?” he asked. “Why did you bring it then?”

“I thought you were pissed,” Hakyeon said. “It’s a peace offering.”

“Good thinking,” Taekwoon said with a nod. He bit into the drumstick himself, chewing with a serious expression on his face. After quickly and surprisingly neatly stripping it of meat, he grabbed a second and held it out to Hakyeon again.

“Eat,” Taekwoon repeated. Hakyeon got the impression refusing wasn’t an option, but he usually liked to wash his hands before eating with them.

“I don’t have a napkin,” he said. Taekwoon scoffed.

“Bite it,” he instructed. “I’ll hold it.”

“I’m not going to _eat out of your hand_ ,” Hakyeon said, hoping the absurdity would make itself apparent if he said it out loud. Taekwoon frowned.

“It’s not ‘out of,’ I’m just holding it,” he pointed out. Unable to come up with a new reason not to, Hakyeon leaned in and took a bite. Taekwoon looked pleased.

“It’s good,” Hakyeon said; Taekwoon nodded once, sharply, approving.

What were they talking about again?

“What are we doing?” Hakyeon asked, feeling weary.

“Now?” Taekwoon replied. “Eating chicken.”

“You’re just a regular Sherlock Holmes himself, aren’t you,” Hakyeon said dryly. Taekwoon had the absolute audacity to smile at him, the corners of his mouth tucking in for just a moment. “I meant—in general.”

“Eating chicken,” Taekwoon said, holding the drumstick out again. Hakyeon took another bite, but he was still annoyed, and he tried to ensure his expression indicated as much.

He wasn’t sure it worked.

“What do you want to do?” Taekwoon countered while Hakyeon chewed.

“I don’t know!” Hakyeon whined. “I thought I knew, but then—now—it’s confusing!”

“Welcome to my world,” Taekwoon said blandly. 

“You’re absolutely not helping, you know.”

“How am I supposed to help?” Taekwoon replied, defensive. Despite his apparent irritation, he still held out the chicken. “You’re the one that wants rules.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t, and you haven’t really explained why!”

“Maybe I don’t have a reason.”

Hakyeon put his face in his hands again. It was like talking to a child: Taekwoon was both petulant and contrary, irrational and impulsive—but also apologetic and surprisingly forgiving. It was baffling how confusing this entire conversation had become. Hakyeon had fully expected to make his apologies, be firmly rebuffed and sent packing, and spent the rest of the month wallowing in misery and regret.

Instead, Taekwoon was feeding him and suggesting they allow the possibility of grinding to continue.

“Hakyeon-ah,” Taekwoon said, and Hakyeon’s head snapped up so fast he saw stars. For a moment they just stared at each other, eye to eye, without a word.

Then Taekwoon leaned in and kissed him on the cheek—a simple peck, really. He sat back, licked his lips, and added a soft, smug, “Thought so.”

“What?!” Hakyeon asked, completely taken aback.

“You’re spicy,” Taekwoon deadpanned. Hakyeon instinctively reached out to karate chop him in the neck; Taekwoon yelped like Hakyeon had punched him in the face, and had the absolute audacity to look at Hakyeon as if he had been deeply betrayed.

“ _Rude_ ,” Hakyeon scolded him.

“Do you want more chicken?” Taekwoon asked as if this entire conversation had no other purpose than to consume probably too much fried chicken for just two people.

“I feel like you’re not taking this seriously,” Hakyeon said.

“It’s good chicken but it’s not _that_ good,” Taekwoon frowned.

“ _I am not talking about chicken, I am talking about grinding on you,_ ” Hakyeon reminded him for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Oh, that,” Taekwoon said. “Was that serious?”

Hakyeon felt his jaw unhinge.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“Oh, I was going to tell you,” Taekwoon interrupted. “I think I might like tango more than waltz.”

“We have barely waltzed and _that was not tango,_ I already _told you,_ ” Hakyeon snapped.

“Whatever it was,” Taekwoon informed him, “Let’s do it more.”

“ _I got you hard,_ ” Hakyeon felt the need to emphatically highlight.

“So?”

Hakyeon was going to strangle him. It would be so quick, just two hands around his pretty throat; after all of this nonsense, no jury in the world would convict him. He would be utterly blameless and without fault, once the evidence was presented.

“Do you want me to get you hard _again!?_ ” Hakyeon asked, alarmed.

“I don’t think I can answer that while I technically pay you,” Taekwoon said, sounding wary. Hakyeon put his hands on Taekwoon’s cheeks and squeezed his face slightly harder than he would if he wasn’t seconds away from manslaughter.

“ _Jung Taekwoon, do you want me to come on to you?_ ” Hakyeon demanded. “I need a _yes or a no,_ please.”

“Yes,” Taekwoon said. “Please.”

The fight drained out of Hakyeon at once; he slumped back in his seat, exhausted. 

“Did you bring a coke or something with this?” Taekwoon asked, lifting the box of chicken. “I’m kind of thirsty but I don’t know where my drink is.”

“I brought you chicken,” Hakyeon huffed. “Get your own damn drink.”

Taekwoon smiled at him and held out another piece.

“Here,” he said. “Eat.”

Jung Taekwoon was so _weird._

 

 

“Wait, he _didn’t_ fire you?” Sanghyuk asked, sounding exactly as baffled as Hakyeon felt. Sanghyuk usually came a little bit early to the lesson, to start stretching or just chat. He’d confessed to Hakyeon that his most recent growth spurt reduced his flexibility considerably, and he was having a hard time getting it back. Hakyeon also got the impression Sanghyuk didn’t have that many close friends in his life; he was more than happy to fill that need.

“Nope,” Hakyeon said. “He basically—no, not basically, _explicitly_ told me to do it more.”

“Do what?” Sanghyuk blinked. “Grind on him?”

“That, but also flirt, I guess?” Hakyeon said. “Back straight, you’re hunching.” Sanghyuk straightened his posture, reaching for his toes. Hakyeon was leaning carefully on his shoulders.

“You were going pretty hard on that already though, right?” Sanghyuk said with a raised, skeptical eyebrow.

“I thought so,” Hakyeon admitted. “Apparently I still had room to take it up a notch.”

“You don’t sound super thrilled about that,” Sanghyuk pointed out. Hakyeon made a humming sound of disagreement.

“It’s not that,” he said. “I just don’t know where the line is. Obviously, we still have work to do, and I want to do that work—but having a carte blanche to do essentially whatever, whenever I want, is kind of intimidating.”

“What about him?” Sanghyuk snorted. “He’s just going to leave all the work to you? Shouldn’t he be putting in a little effort too?”

“On what, dancing? Or flirting?”

“Both, hyung,” Sanghyuk said. “You’re always like this, you always do all the work for other people, even when you shouldn’t have to.”

Hakyeon felt a bubbling affection for him suddenly, which caused him to wrap his arms around Sanghyuk’s shoulders and sigh.

“You’re such a sweet child,” he said fondly. “So considerate and soft.”

“Hyung, you’re kind of crushing me,” Sanghyuk whined, barely tolerating Hakyeon’s adoration. Hakyeon sighed again, but released him.

“You’re right,” he said. “He should put in some effort, I can’t teach and seduce at the same time.”

“Fortunately,” Sanghyuk grumbled.

“What?”

“Hyung,” Sanghyuk informed him. “I’m just saying: I’ve definitely seen people who aren’t particularly interested in dancing become _very_ interested when they’re standing directly behind you.”

“Are you complimenting my butt?” Hakyeon asked.

“In the most objective, platonic way possible,” Sanghyuk said. 

“Aw, thanks Hyukkie,” Hakyeon said, genuinely flattered. He pat Sanghyuk on the top of his head; Sanghyuk just sighed again. 

“If he’s an asshole, you should just forget him, okay?” Sanghyuk said with a slight hint of aggression. “Don’t bother if he’s not worth your time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hakyeon told him. He knew better than to say it, but he appreciated Sanghyuk’s protectiveness when it flared up; Hakyeon didn’t need protection, of course, but it was one of the little things that made it clear Sanghyuk cared.

The others came in with a clatter of bags and voices, but Hakyeon gave him one more quick squeeze around the shoulders in gratitude. 

 

 

When Hakyeon next arrived at the studio, his heart was pounding in trepidation. He just didn’t know what to _expect_ : straight to work? Straight to feeling each other up? Straight to—

Actually, as he thought about it, he decided ‘straight’ was probably not the word for anything that was going on.

He was surprised to find Taekwoon in the studio already, stretching on the floor. Hakyeon had been quietly impressed by his overall progress; he’d already figured out that Taekwoon was lot more limber than he’d first thought. His apparent stiffness was related to his comfort level, and once he relaxed, his body moved more smoothly overall. He was further impressed when he overheard Minjun talking about the extra hours Taekwoon was putting into practice on his own.

“Morning,” Hakyeon said as he came in the door. Taekwoon looked up and smiled, which absolutely did not help with his heart rate.

“There’s Starbucks,” Taekwoon informed him, pointing to a collection of cups in the corner. “I got you tea.”

“How did you know I like tea?” Hakyeon asked, pleased.

“I asked Wonshik,” Taekwoon said. “He said he didn’t know, but he’d never seen you with coffee, so I guessed.”

Hakyeon blushed. Sanghyuk’s insistence that Hakyeon not put it all the work of... whatever they were doing seemed somewhat unnecessary now; clearly, Taekwoon was going to contribute in his own way.

In hindsight, perhaps he’d been contributing in his own way for a while, and Hakyeon had just not particularly noticed.

“Thank you,” Hakyeon said quietly, taking a careful sip. It was still very hot, so he put it back down to cool a bit.

“The main track is finalized,” Taekwoon told him. “We sent it off yesterday, so we can work with it today.”

“That’s great,” Hakyeon said. “Have you thought about the performance yet?”

“Kind of,” Taekwoon said, making a face. Hakyeon sat down on the floor next to him, facing towards him, surprised by how comfortable it was. Despite the weirdness of the previous conversation, things seemed pretty much how they were before. It felt... easy, somehow.

“Tell me,” Hakyeon prompted.

“For what we’re doing, I need one more person, right?” Taekwoon asked.

“For the partner section, yes,” Hakyeon confirmed.

“Is it weird to have just one though?” Taekwoon asked. “Won’t that look kind of... unbalanced?

“My recommendation is one female dancer, then two male dancers,” Hakyeon said. “The woman would be on stage only for the tango part, then the men stay with you for the rest of it. If it’s just her, you’re right. It will look uneven, and draw attention to her rather than to you.”

“How do I find dancers?” Taekwoon asked. “That aren’t... mean...”

“Students are good,” Hakyeon said. “Eager to work, not so wrapped up in their egos yet. I can probably recommend a few. Really the best way is to have an audition; they can do their own performance, then we can teach them a little of what we’re doing and test their compatibility with you.”

“I don’t think I can do that alone,” Taekwoon said with a hint of a whine. He put a hand on Hakyeon’s knee, warm. His palm moved gently, rubbing in a soothing way that contrasted with the hesitation in his voice.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Hakyeon sniffed at him. “You barely know anything about dance, how could you possibly evaluate them?”

“I have an idea,” Taekwoon said. “You can be the girl.”

“What?” Hakyeon snorted. “No I can’t.”

“You can,” Taekwoon said. “You can wear a wig or something, and then pull it off and be one of the male dancers. Wonshik can be the other one.”

“See, this is _exactly_ why you can’t do this,” Hakyeon said. “Your ideas are just completely incomprehensible.”

“I guess you are a little too spicy,” Taekwoon sighed. “People would be really distracted, the song would flop.”

“I never should have taught you ‘spicy’,” Hakyeon sighed. “I regret it every single day.”

“I thought we decided you weren’t going to regret anything,” Taekwoon said. Whether to test Hakyeon’s patience or simply to be _extraordinarily_ bold, the hand on Hakyeon’s knee slid smoothly up his thigh with just the slightest amount of pressure. Taekwoon leaned closer at the same time, invading Hakyeon’s space with a sneaky little smile.

“You are way more handsy than I gave you credit for,” Hakyeon commented blandly, refusing to rise to Taekwoon’s bait.

“Should I stop?”

“I didn’t say that,” his extremely traitorous mouth said. “I mean—yes, we’re working today. Stop.”

Taekwoon pulled away, but his expression made it clear Hakyeon hadn’t fooled him. Standing, he went to the stereo while Hakyeon took a quick sip of his tea. It was something herbal and fragrant; he took a deep inhale of the steam with his eyes closed, letting the scent melt him. There was something citrus in it, and maybe rose; he took another careful sip, sighing happily. 

He really did like a nice cup of tea.

“Hakyeon-ah,” Taekwoon called out. “Are you ready?”

“Yes—yep, I’m—right, let’s start!” he said, flustered by Taekwoon’s informality. He turned around and saw Taekwoon waiting with that sweet smile on his face; immediately, he realized that getting through the day without _wanting_ was going to be much harder than he anticipated.

 

 

“Okay, I think we should call it a day,” Hakyeon said; Taekwoon had made a lot of progress, but he was visibly hitting a wall and Hakyeon knew better than to make his students push it. Nothing could make someone lose interest faster than frustration.

Taekwoon slumped down to the floor with his back against the wall; he leaned his head back as he caught his breath, and a bead of sweat ran down his neck. Hakyeon looked away, uncomfortable. His gaze snapped back when Taekwoon started laughing.

“What?” 

“This is fun,” Taekwoon said. “Hard, but fun.”

“Good!” Hakyeon beamed. “It should be fun!” He grabbed his water bottle and knocked his head back. He took a few big gulps before he noticed Taekwoon was staring at him, still breathing hard.

“Hm?”

“We’re done working now, right?” Taekwoon asked, standing. Hakyeon nodded at him; after four and a half hours, there was no way either of them had it in them to continue. Taekwoon crossed the space between them in what felt like an impossibly short time; he didn’t quite get close enough to be considered invasive, but he did take Hakyeon’s free hand with his left and twist their fingers together. He hooked his right index finger in Hakeyon’s belt loop, right over his hip, and ever-so-slightly tugged.

“Is this okay?” Taekwoon said softly. Hakyeon followed the pull, just a half-step closer, enough to feel... more than friendly.

“This is—”

“If it’s not, tell me, okay?” Taekwoon interrupted. “Right away.”

“It’s fine,” Hakyeon assured him, quiet. “I’m fine.” He was more than fine; Taekwoon was still catching his breath, and his bangs were stuck to his forehead with sweat, but he was still a tall glass of water Hakyeon would gladly drink. 

“Tomorrow night, after your class, are you busy?” Taekwoon asked.

“I’m—I don’t have any plans,” Hakyeon told him. “Why?”

“Come over,” Taekwoon said softly; Hakyeon’s heart skipped a beat. Come over? What did that mean? To his house? Alone? Why? For dinner? To hang out? To _make_ out? To—

“Is it a date?” Hakyeon asked, unsure.

“Do you want it to be?” Taekwoon replied, but Hakyeon wasn’t sure how to answer that question. It wasn’t like he didn’t _want_ it to be, but things had changed so quickly, and so much, that he felt like he was standing on a sand pile that could collapse under him at any second. His indecision must have shown on his face, because Taekwoon let go of his belt loop and took a half-step back, leaning against a table. He granted Hakyeon space to think.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he said gently. “It’s up to you.”

Maybe it was the softness in his voice, or the way he seemed willing to drop it if Hakyeon was uncomfortable, or maybe it was just the fact that Hakyeon couldn’t forget the feeling of Taekwoon’s arms around him—whatever the reason, he set down his water bottle and moved forward, _close_ , standing between Taekwoon’s knees and twisting his left hand in the front of Taekwoon’s shirt. Taekwoon’s arms went around his waist so easily it felt like they belonged there.

“It’s a date, then,” Hakyeon told him firmly. He was rewarded with a full, radiant smile. Hakyeon smiled back, adding, “I don’t want your sister picking me up this time, got it?”

“I was just going to give you my address,” Taekwoon informed him. 

“That works,” Hakyeon said. The conversation was clearly ending, but he found that the last thing he really wanted to do was pull away. With a heavy sigh, he released Taekwoon’s shirt and leaned back until he felt Taekwoon’s hands settle warmly on his waist, rather than holding him.

“I should probably go,” Hakyeon said. Taekwoon didn’t say anything, but he also didn’t pull back his hands; Hakyeon felt hyper-aware of every placement of every finger. It made it infinitely harder to just walk away. He should go. He had to go, eventually. He just didn’t particularly want to.

“Tomorrow,” Taekwoon said, letting go—but just before Hakyeon got quite out of reach, Taekwoon put his hand on Hakyeon’s cheek, sliding up to cup his face, brushing his thumb along Hakyeon’s cheek bone. Hakyeon knew he was blushing, and he could see Taekwoon was turning pink too, but he didn’t say anything, and after just a few seconds (too short, much too short) he pulled his hand back completely.

“Tomorrow,” Hakyeon murmured back, slightly breathless. He gathered his things quickly and left before Taekwoon had any more chances to make his knees turn to jelly.

 

 

Hongbin arrived before Sanghyuk, almost a full thirty minutes early, and the expression on his face suggested he would rather be doing almost anything else other than what he was doing. He took a deep breath.

“I don’t want details,” Hongbin told him firmly. “I just want to check that you’re being safe and careful.”

“In what way?” Hakyeon asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“ _Not that way_ ,” Hongbin answered. “I mean—obviously please, also that way, but that’s not what I mean.”

“Go on,” Hakyeon said, eyes on his phone as he scrolled through messages; Taekwoon had texted him the address almost as soon as he left, but he wasn’t answering Hakyeon’s questions about what he should bring. Hongbin reached out to take his phone from his hand and held it up.

“This,” Hongbin said, jerking his head towards the phone. “I mean this.” Hakyeon snatched it back.

“What are you—”

“Don’t pretend like I haven’t seen you get hurt before,” Hongbin said, tone slightly softer than before. “More than once, even.”

Hakyeon sighed; he wasn’t wrong. They’d gone to the same high school, albeit in different grades, and now the same university. Hongbin had definitely been witness to some of Hakyeon’s most painful moments, just as Hakyeon had been to his. 

“I’m being careful,” Hakyeon said, but Hongbin frowned. “I am!”

“Are you sure?” Hongbin pressed. “Because it kind of looks like you’re still going after him, even though things got pretty weird.”

“I am,” Hakyeon said. “They got less weird.”

“ _Don’t forget what you’re worth,_ ” Hongbin snapped; his tone was betrayed by the hand he put on Hakyeon’s elbow. “Don’t—you always accept mediocrity. You always allow people to take advantage of you.”

“I don’t—”

“You think you don’t deserve better,” Hongbin said. “Am I wrong?”

Hakyeon dropped his head; Hongbin knew him perhaps too well, sometimes.

“You deserve the best he has to give you,” Hongbin said. “Do _not_ tolerate anything less, okay? Last time you swore you wouldn’t put up with bullshit anymore. I—I’m kind of worried you’re backpedaling on that.”

Hakyeon met his eyes and smiled.

“I’m not,” he said. “I promise. I’d—I’ll walk, if it seems like it’s going that way, okay? I haven’t forgotten.”

“He’s been messing with your head,” Hongbin said, but Hakyeon cut him off.

“He hasn’t. I misunderstood—genuinely, I’m not just blaming myself. We talked,” Hakyeon explained.

“Hyung,” Hongbin said, “Are you falling for him?”

Hakyeon sucked in a breath. Was he? _Had_ he, already? What did that even mean for them? Was it the butterflies and the heart palpitations, or the smiles and warm hands? Was it scrolling back through messages just because he loved the way his stomach flipped when he reread something cute or flirty? 

Was it the realization that, in hindsight, Taekwoon had been flirting almost all along?

“I’m okay, Binnie,” Hakyeon assured him. “Really. He’s kind of weird—no, he’s _really_ weird, but he’s a good guy.”

“If he messes with you,” Hongbin said firmly, “I know how to destroy his career.”

“What is it with people being super eager to harm him on my behalf?” Hakyeon asked, alarmed. “He doesn’t deserve that, I promise.”

“If our positions were switched,” Hongbin said, “Do you expect me to believe you wouldn’t be six-layers deep on reddit, looking for dirt, _just in case_?”

“...Fair,” Hakyeon admitted. He would definitely ruin a man, if not murder a man, for hurting any of his dongsaengs. Especially Hongbin; he’d been through enough. Hakyeon wasn’t sure that his self-esteem could handle a hit as bad as the last one. Just the memory was enough to make Hakyeon reach out for a hug; Hongbin pulled a face, but he allowed it, and when Hakyeon put his head on Hongbin’s shoulder, Hongbin patted him gingerly on the back.

“If you’re done being gross,” Hongbin said, “I need help with my Japanese homework.”

“Articles again?” Hakyeon said sympathetically.

“When is it ever _not_ articles?!” Hongbin grumped.

“When it’s conjunctions,” Hakyeon said with a sigh.

“Oh, they’re on my shit list too, don’t worry,” Hongbin growled back.

Hakyeon released him from the hug with a laugh.

“Alright, show me,” he told Hongbin with a gestured at his bag. “Let’s see if we can’t figure it out.”

Hongbin would never have accepted a thank you; Hakyeon just hoped he knew Hakyeon meant it anyway.

 

 

When Taekwoon opened his front door, Hakyeon wondered if he would get stop being taken aback by how gorgeous he was. It wasn’t even the kind of untouchable, unnatural beauty so many other stars had; it was something else, something that made him wonder if he could ever look even half as good as this man apparently did, effortlessly.

Then Taekwoon gave him a once-over and blushed, so maybe he wasn’t doing so badly himself.

Taekwoon gestured him inside, smiling, still quite pink; Hakyeon politely toed off his shoes and accepted the guest slippers offered to him—and barely smothered a giggle.

“What?” Taekwoon asked.

“Your slippers are cats?” Hakyeon replied, gesturing at the cat faces on his feet.

“No,” Taekwoon said firmly. “Some of them are dogs.” He gestured at his own feet which were, clearly, dogs. Before Hakyeon could comment further, Taekwoon turned around and headed into his apartment. Following, Hakyeon couldn’t quite stop his eyes from going wide.

The apartment—probably more like a condo, was spacious and modern. Clean lines, sharp corners, minimalist décor he would expect from a rich person—but there were clear pieces of evidence that suggested the person that lived here did not completely fall into the fast-cars-flat-screens lifestyle. For one, the furniture itself actually looked quite worn and comfy when examined more closely. For another, there were small crinkly tinsel balls, small fake mice, and multiple furry beds.

“You have a cat?” Hakyeon asked, surprised.

“I have three cats,” Taekwoon corrected him. “Wait, are you allergic—”

“I’m not, don’t worry,” Hakyeon laughed. “What are their names?” 

“Peas, Radish, and Carrot,” Taekwoon informed him with no shame whatsoever. “They’re sisters, I found them behind the studio a couple years ago.”

“I can’t believe your landlord let you keep them in a place like this,” Hakyeon said.

“He didn’t,” Taekwoon said. “But I told him if he evicts me, he’ll go down as the ‘jerk who evicted Jung Taekwoon for rescuing three abandoned kittens’ in the tabloids and no one will ever rent from him again.”

“That’s... not inaccurate,” Hakyeon agreed.

“Radish is shy, but Carrot’s pretty friendly and Peas is...” he paused for a moment, considering.

“Peas is?” Hakyeon prompted.

“Peas got stuck in the refrigerator on Tuesday after Radish opened it. For the fourth time.”

“She’s not the brightest bulb in the box?” Hakyeon suggested.

“I’m not really sure she’s even in the box, to be honest,” Taekwoon said. “Are you hungry?”

“Sure,” Hakyeon said, far more amused by Taekwoon’s animal fatherhood than he would admit, “Are we ordering in?”

“No,” Taekwoon said.

“...Are we going out?” Hakyeon asked.

“Nope,” said Taekwoon. He stopped gestured with one hand; Hakyeon gasped.

The kitchen was _huge_ and _gorgeous._ Everything looked expensive, all brushed chrome and black marble, with actual mixers and a knife block—it looked downright professional.

“This is why I live here,” Taekwoon explained. “Minjun says I wanted the big windows, but I wanted this.”

“I’m guessing the baby locks on the fridge are for Peas,” Hakyeon said, spotting the plastic.

“Oh, there she is,” Taekwoon said, bending down to scoop up a sleek black cat with big green eyes. She meowed loudly at him, and for some reason, he _meowed back_ at her before turning to Hakyeon.

“This is my eldest, Peas,” he said. He extended Peas’ paw with one hand. “Peas, this is Cha Hakyeon.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jung Peas,” Hakyeon said, shaking her paw politely with a small bow. Taekwoon snorted.

“Where are your sisters?” Taekwoon asked Peas as if she would tell him. She did meow again, but he didn’t seem to feel the need to reply this time, and simply put her down. Peas gave Hakyeon a good sniff, and he squatted slowly so as not to frighten her, holding out a hand. She headbutted him hard, rubbing against his shins.

“She’s very friendly,” Hakyeon commented, scratching under her chin.

“Because she’s dumb, probably,” Taekwoon shrugged. “No survival instinct.”

“Are you cooking for us?” Hakyeon asked, surprised. It wasn’t that he thought Taekwoon was particularly incapable, it just seemed unlikely that someone who made decent money and lived in a place like he did would cook. Taekwoon had removed the baby lock from the fridge, but he looked back over his shoulder, a touch nervous.

“Is that okay?” he asked, hesitant. Hakyeon beamed at him.

“Sounds great,” he said. “I try cooking, but apparently most of what I makes tastes awful.”

“I was thinking either pasta or paella,” Taekwoon said. “Preference?”

“Either are good,” Hakyeon answered. He gave Peas one last pat before standing up again. “Can I help?”

“No, you’re the guest,” Taekwoon told him firmly. “You get to sit at the bar and—” he stopped abruptly, turning red.

“Sit and do what?” Hakyeon pressed, curious what had come over him.

“...Don’t get mad,” Taekwoon said.

“Come on, tell me,” Hakyeon insisted.

“...Sit and look pretty,” Taekwoon mumbled, ducking his head to hide his face. Hakyeon laughed, coming up to Taekwoon’s side and poking him in the ribs.

“So you think I’m pretty?” Hakyeon teased, “How pretty, exactly? I’ve gotten ‘cute’ before, but never _pretty_ —”

So smoothly Hakyeon wasn’t entirely sure how he did it, Taekwoon turned his body just enough to sling an arm around Hakyeon’s waist with his palm flat on Hakyeon’s lower back, pulling him close and leaning down to murmur in his ear.

“I could look at you forever,” he said softly, sending a shiver straight down Hakyeon’s spine and goosebumps up his arm. He curled his fingers ever so slightly, then just quickly as he’d moved before, he withdrew his hand and turned his attention back to the fridge. Hakyeon’s heart was pounding again and he took one shaky step back, then another, until he’d reached the breakfast bar. He sat on a stool and put a hand on his chest, waiting for his pulse to return to normal.

“It’s going to take a little longer, but it’s been a while since I made paella,” Taekwoon informed him in a completely normal tone, as if hadn’t just given Hakyeon reason to believe he might need a pacemaker.

“S-sounds good!” Hakyeon chirped, putting his hands on his face. His cheeks were hot; he was definitely bright red. He was distracted by the feeling of a cat rubbing against his shins; looking down, he saw not Peas, but a ginger cat. He smiled, reaching down to pet her.

“You must be Carrot,” he said. Taekwoon came over to look around the bar.

“Oh, no that’s Radish. Weird, she doesn’t usually come up to people,” he said, moving back into the kitchen.

“Wait, the orange one _isn’t_ Carrot?” Hakyeon asked, confused.

“No, Carrot is a tortie,” Taekwoon explained. “That’s Radish. She must like you.”

Hakyeon shook his head; even within his own weird naming theme, Taekwoon defied logic; the ginger cat should have been Carrot, _obviously._ Radish seemed slightly less interested in being pet than Peas did, but she spent a decent amount of time sniffing him and rubbing her face on his slippers.

“How long have you lived here?” Hakyeon asked, propping his elbows on the counter; it was kind of fun to watch Taekwoon like this, from behind. The width of his shoulders was quite pleasing, and his movements suggested a level skill beyond what Hakyeon had ever been able to achieve. He was chopping something rapidly, then laying out ingredients neatly on the counter.

“A little over two years?” Taekwoon said. “I used to live with my parents.”

“I miss living with my parents sometimes,” Hakyeon confessed with a sigh. “But they’d been waiting for an empty nest since I was in junior high school.”

“Early,” Taekwoon commented over his shoulder.

“Kind of?” Hakyeon said. “I have three older siblings; my brother is fifteen years older than me. He moved out when I was in elementary school still. They’re all married with families of their own. Being home... made me feel even younger, I guess.”

“I have three older sisters,” Taekwoon said. “I get that.”

“Pretty much,” Hakyeon sighed again. “Also none of them have any interest in the arts whatsoever, so I’ve spent ten years doing something they don’t understand at all.”

“Ten years?” Taekwoon asked. “That long?”

“I started in junior high,” Hakyeon said. “Then I was competing in high school, and just kept going.” He crossed his arms on the counter and leaned down to rest his chin on them. “I should be better, after this long, but—I’m not.”

Taekwoon turned around, frowning.

“Are you joking?” he asked.

“Does it sound like I am?” Hakyeon asked, dull and flat.

“I wouldn’t have asked you to teach me if you weren’t great,” Taekwoon informed him. 

“You have no gauge for—”

“I don’t think you know how long I looked,” Taekwoon cut him off. “Minjun doesn’t even know.”

“How long was it, then?” Hakyeon challenged him.

“Two months,” Taekwoon said. “Roughly. I only told him about a week before we started.”

Hakyeon sat up; two months? Sure, that wasn’t years of experience, but _months_ of crawling through Youtube and google, looking for people with skill and accessibility, watching video after video—that would give you at least some degree of understanding what ‘good’ looked like, probably.

The most baffling part of this realization was the subsequent decision to pick _him._

“Do you want to put some music on?” Taekwoon asked. 

“Uh,” Hakyeon said, losing his train of thought, “Yeah, sure. Where is it?”

“Bluetooth,” Taekwoon informed him, gesturing vaguely towards the living area. “It should be connected to my phone.”

“Where’s your phone then?” Hakyeon asked, ready to fetch it. Taekwoon nodded in the same direction; Hakyeon stood up, before he walked away, Taekwoon called out.

“The passcode is 240512,” he said. “Put on whatever you like.”

Hakyeon blinked; he walked towards the sofa with a strange mix of excited and flattered that Taekwoon apparently trusted him enough to give him unfettered access to his phone. It wasn’t a privilege he had any intention of abusing though. When he picked it up, he saw a single notification labelled ‘Wonshikkie’ and for half a second, he almost changed his mind.

It was none of his business, as curious as he was. He unlocked the phone and went directly to Taekwoon’s music; he didn’t have much in the way of carefully curated playlists as Hakyeon; instead he seemed to listen to entire albums at once. Hakyeon sorted his library by likes, and set that on to play; the sound seemed to come from various points around the room, to the point that he wasn’t even sure where the speakers were. He carried Taekwoon’s phone back with him and placed it on the counter.

“I looked at all your selfies,” he said. “Including the naughty ones. Wow.”

Taekwoon turned around and leaned back against his counter top; his long body seemed to comfortably drape anywhere he felt like resting it. He smiled, sneaky.

“Interested?” he said simply.

“...You don’t have any naughty ones, do you,” Hakyeon said, suspicious. Taekwoon’s smile bloomed into a more amused one.

“Nope,” he said. “Nobody to send them to.”

“ _That’s_ the only thing stopping you?” Hakyeon gasped in mock horror, hand on his heart.

“Why else do people take them?” Taekwoon said, turning around to go back to cooking. 

“I don’t know,” Hakyeon said, considering. “I guess there is an element of pride, right? Thinking about looking so good you wish you had an opportunity to show off—especially if it’s not something you usually think about yourself.”

“So do you have them?” Taekwoon asked, sounding ever-so-slightly more than curious.

“Nah,” Hakyeon said. “I’m...” he trailed off, and the silence was just long enough for Taekwoon to look over his shoulder with a questioning expression. Hakyeon sighed and rubbed his upper arms nervously.

“There’s nothing to see, really,” he said quietly. “Why bother?”

“You don’t get it at all, do you?” Taekwoon said in a surprisingly accusatory tone.

“Get what?”

“That you’re—you look good,” Taekwoon said. “Really good.” Hakyeon looked at the countertop, uncomfortable. There was a reason he performed in long sleeves no shorter than his elbow, high collars—it wasn’t even that he was shy, so much as just utterly lacking in any confidence in his appearance the second his performances ended.

“Not really,” he said. “I mean, thanks, but that’s—that’s your opinion.”

“You don’t like yourself enough,” Taekwoon informed him. “You deserve more.”

Hongbin’s words suddenly echoed in his mind: _You think you don’t deserve better._

“Sorry,” Hakyeon said quietly, apologetic. “It’s—hard for me.”

Taekwoon put down the utensils he was holding, wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and came around to counter directly across from Hakyeon. His expression was difficult to read; Hakyeon had looked up when he moved, but his gaze dropped back down almost immediately.

“Did something happen?” Taekwoon asked him softly. Hakyeon continued to stare at the countertop. It wasn’t even a single incident, so much as a serious of hits to his self-esteem, poking holes until the only spot that couldn’t be broken was stage presence. He’d watched enough of his own performances to know that much. He was pulled from his thoughts when Taekwoon’s fingers swept his bangs to the side.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he said, still soft. “But if you want to...”

“Nothing happened,” Hakyeon said. “Just a lot of little things, over and over, I guess. Sorry.”

“But you’re beautiful,” Taekwoon said, sounding sad. Hakyeon looked up, and found Taekwoon looking at him with a concerned warmth he’d never seen before. It made him immediately flush with a combination of embarrassment and slight shame. He didn’t mean to disappoint anyone, and it wasn’t like he was fishing for compliments. He just...

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Taekwoon said, his fingertips trailing down his face until he could lift Hakyeon’s chin. “I’ll make you see it. Somehow. Okay?”

Hakyeon’s heart was in his throat.

“Okay,” he said. He’d try. He wanted to try, for once.

“Good,” Taekwoon said. “Now, dinner.”

Hakyeon smiled as he pulled away.

“Tell me about finding your daughters,” Hakyeon asked, elbows on the counter and chin propped up by his palms. “I want every detail about how cute and little they were.”

 

Taekwoon’s dining table was smaller than Hakyeon expected, but he realized that having one at all spoke to a degree of success he himself had not yet achieved. Taekwoon seemed to read his mind, because as he set the paella dishes down, he pulled a face.

“It’s too big,” he complained. “I usually eat at the couch.”

“That seems unwise to do with paella,” Hakyeon commented as he sat down. Taekwoon had set the table so they were both at one end, facing each other. 

“I told you I haven’t had it in a while,” Taekwoon said. “Go ahead, eat.”

“It looks about as hot as the sun,” Hakyeon commented. Taekwoon took a large spoonful as if to counter Hakyeon’s point, only to immediately grab for water in an attempt to save his taste buds from being burned off.

“See,” Hakyeon said, smug. He blew on his own spoon, with a much more conservative amount of food on it, and took a careful bite. Immediately, he slumped back in his chair and groaned.

“Oh my god,” he said, eyes closed. “I’m never leaving. I live here now. Just feed me forever.”

“It’s not _that_ good,” Taekwoon said. Hakyeon sat up and reached out a hand to put on Taekwoon’s wrist.

“No, it is,” he said. “I think I’m going to cry.”

“Please don’t cry,” Taekwoon said. “I already put in salt, it doesn’t need more.” Hakyeon smiled at him, and felt his heart flutter when Taekwoon smiled back before ducking his head shyly. Hakyeon’s hand was still there, on his wrist, and he brushed his thumb lightly against Taekwoon’s pulse point; he wondered if Taekwoon was having as many heart problems as he was recently.

“You’re so cute,” Hakyeon said, pleased to see Taekwoon’s ears turn red. He started to pull his hand back, but Taekwoon turned his until they were palm to palm, then he closed his fingers. When Hakyeon blinked at him in surprise, he lifted his (pink) face.

“You can’t eat,” Hakyeon pointed out. Without breaking eye contact, Taekwoon took the spoon out of his right hand, spun it once around his left hand before settling it and taking a slightly more reasonable amount.

“Ambidextrous,” he said. “It doesn’t matter.”

“How—”

“I don’t know,” Taekwoon said. “My mom says I was a lefty when I was little but by kindergarten I used both.”

“How talented,” Hakyeon commented. He added with a slightly flirtatious purr, “That must be really _fun_ sometimes.”

“I can’t draw with either one, so not really,” Taekwoon said as the flirtation flew wildly over his head. Hakyeon sighed, but he couldn’t deny he was enjoying the hand-holding. It felt both completely bizarre and completely perfect. It felt _more_ than perfect when Taekwoon just quietly smiled at him, brushing his thumb across the back of Hakyeon’s fingers.

“You’re happy,” Hakyeon commented. He got a firm nod of agreement. Then he frowned.

“Aren’t you?” he asked, sounding sad.

“I am!” Hakyeon said immediately, putting down his spoon so he could reach out and gently pat Taekwoon on the cheek. “Of course I am.”

“If you’re bored—”

“I’m _not_ bored,” Hakyeon said, picking up his spoon again. “Why would I be bored?”

“Because I’m boring,” Taekwoon said. The heavy resignation in his voice made Hakyeon pause.

“What?” he said, confused. “Who told you that?”

“Lots of people,” Taekwoon said. When he failed to elaborate, Hakyeon raised an eyebrow at him. He sighed before following up with, “I have three cats, Hakyeon, come on.”

“Cats you _rescued_ from the _street_ ,” Hakyeon said. “Because you are the _sweetest thing_ in the entire world. That’s not even slightly boring!”

Taekwoon opened his mouth, but before he could reply, there was a clattering sound from the kitchen, followed by an urgent but muffled meowing.

“Shit,” Taekwoon said, dropping Hakyeon’s hand as he stood and made for the kitchen. “Forgot to put the lock back on. Gotta rescue Peas before Radish kills— _Carrot, you too?!_ ”

Hakyeon smiled to himself, shaking his head. He was about to take another bite when Taekwoon’s phone, on the table top a bit out of immediate reach, buzzed from an incoming text. Hakyeon was going to ignore it, but it buzzed a second, third, and fourth time—the only time Hakyeon had ever personally received texts in such a rapid-fire manner was in an emergency, so he reached out to grab Taekwoon’s phone and see if he could at least tell from the lockscreen how urgent it was.

_Wonshikkie: are we not doing this tonight?_  
_Wonshikkie: I thought you were coming over_  
_Wonshikkie: hyung come on, I told you your place or mine_  
_Wonshikkie: you said it’d be just a quick one this time_

He raised one eyebrow, then the other. This was an odd development. Taekwoon came back.

“Radish taught Carrot,” Taekwoon said. “Peas is alive though.”

“Good for Peas,” Hakyeon said dryly. He nodded towards Taekwoon’s phone. “Wonshik seems to think you’re sleeping together tonight.”

“He _what?!_ ” Taekwoon yelped, grabbing his phone. “Why would he—oh. Oh, that’s not—it’s not—he’s talking about something... else...”

“I’m not mad,” Hakyeon informed him. “A little jealous, maybe, but it’s not like I thought we were something exclusive. Or even ‘something’ really.”

“No, this is—this is not at all what it looks like,” Taekwoon said urgently.

“Huh,” Hakyeon said, leaning back in his chair. “So are you just teasing him, or what?”

“I’m working with him on something,” Taekwoon said. “But I can’t tell you.”

Hakyeon stared at him, waiting.

“It’s a surprise,” Taekwoon said.

Hakyeon raised a single eyebrow.

“ _Please_ don’t make me give it away, I’ve been working really hard on it,” Taekwoon whined. It was enough to final crack Hakyeon’s composure; he chuckled, gesturing for Taekwoon to sit down again at his plate.

“I’m not sleeping with anybody,” Taekwoon mumbled.

“Okay,” Hakyeon said.

“I’m not!”

“Okay,” Hakyeon repeated. “It doesn’t matter anyway, we’re not a thing.”

Taekwoon put his spoon down with a very serious expression that made Hakyeon slightly nervous. 

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Sleeping with anybody,” Taekwoon said, sounding unusually detached and cold. Hakyeon frowned, putting down his utensil as well.

“Would you be upset if I was?” he asked carefully.

“Yes.”

“Why?” Hakyeon asked. He wasn’t sure what Taekwoon’s answer would be, but he knew what he _wanted_ it to be.

“Because I want us to be a thing,” Taekwoon said simply. Hakyeon’s heart soared. It wasn’t a total surprise, but it was a big confirmation of a bigger suspicion and it was nice to know he wasn’t the only person in the room wondering if this could be... better.

“You do?”

“You don’t,” Taekwoon said, sounding resigned. It wasn’t a question so much as a statement of fact; his expression twisted, but he dropped his head before Hakyeon could get a good look. “Never mind then.”

“Hey,” Hakyeon said softly. “I’m not.”

Taekwoon glanced up at him. He looked hopeful and a touch wary; Hakyeon wondered briefly if maybe his teasing had gone a bit too far this time. 

“I’m not sleeping with anybody, or involved with anybody, or—anything,” Hakyeon informed him. “I’m 100% totally available for a fine gentleman to woo.”

“Gentleman?” Taekwoon asked, intrigued.

“A very specific gentleman,” Hakyeon explained. “Tall, sweet, great cook, borderline cat lady. Actually, he’s kind of famous, maybe you’ve heard of him?”

“I _really_ like you,” Taekwoon blurted out. Judging by the deep, deep shade of red his face turned, those had not been the words he was planning to say. Hakyeon beamed at him, ecstatic. It was real! Taekwoon said it! Taekwoon _meant_ it, he was—

“I bet I like you more,” Hakyeon said, aware that his smile was borderline manic.

“No, I _definitely_ like you more,” Taekwoon corrected firmly.

“It’s not a competition,” Hakyeon reminded him, amused.

“Still. I do. More,” Taekwoon stammered out.

“Finish your dinner,” Hakyeon told him. “We’ll talk about this later.”

Taekwoon looked him dead in the eye.

“I’ll finish in five bites,” he said seriously. Then, with Hakyeon watching, he somehow inhaled all remaining food in his dish almost instantaneously.

“I lied,” Taekwoon said, still deadly serious. “I did it in four.”

“Jung Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said. “At what point did I indicate the conversation would happen when _only you_ finished?” Gesturing to his own dish, he added, “Unless you’re saying I can’t have mine?”

“No, that’s—of course you can finish,” Taekwoon said, blushing again. “Just go quickly.”

Hakyeon laughed, but he did try to eat just a little bit faster.

 

 

“Come on,” Taekwoon said, taking him by the hand and leading him into the living room. It was fairly sparsely decorated, but the couch and chair looked soft and slightly worn, and the shelf of DVDs next to the TV seemed to be filled with primarily dramas and Japanese romance movies. Taekwoon dropped his and started pushing the coffee table out of the way, leaving a considerable open space in the middle of the room.

“What are you doing?” Hakyeon asked. Taekwoon straightened and turned back to him with a determined expression on his face that sent a thrill straight down his spine. Taekwoon pulled his phone out of his pocket and held down the home button.

“Siri, play WIP playlist,” he instructed the phone. He put it down and held out his arms—in a waltz hold.

“Are you kidding me?” Hakyeon asked. “Waltz? You want to waltz right now?”

“Yes,” Taekwoon said firmly. “Let’s go.”

Hakyeon wasn’t sure why he was complying, or why Taekwoon had been so obsessed with waltzing since the first time they tried it, but he sighed and joined him. The music started, playing a song he vaguely recognized as being one Taekwoon had been working on recently. As soon as he got into the hold, Hakyeon noticed there was a significant difference between the last time they’d done this and now. Taekwoon’s shoulders were straight and his hand placement was perfect; as they started to move, his steps were clean and precise. It was like he’d been taking lessons.

Dances lessons.

“Is _this_ what you’ve been doing with Wonshik?” Hakyeon asked, suddenly connecting the dots. Taekwoon smiled at him.

“I’m better, right?” he said. There was so much pride in his voice.

“You’re perfect,” Hakyeon told him, beaming. Taekwoon executed a series of more difficult steps, leading Hakyeon effortlessly around the small space; he had a grace to him that had been missing the first few times, and Hakyeon felt like they were floating around the room.

As the song ended, a new one started, and this time Taekwoon’s hand settled low in the small of his back, pulling Hakyeon closer. It was terrible form for competition, but absolutely perfect for the slow dance Taekwoon seemed to want. Hakyeon moved his hand from Taekwoon’s shoulder to around his neck, leaning in. 

“This one’s new,” Hakyeon commented, noticing the song for the first time. Taekwoon pulled him closer still, cheek to cheek.

“It’s for you,” he said softly.

“What?” Hakyeon said, more flutters running wild through his chest.

“It’s for you,” Taekwoon repeated. “It’s not done yet, but it’s yours.” He started humming in Hakyeon’s ear, soft, then singing so gently Hakyeon closed his eyes until the only things he was aware of were Taekwoon’s hands and Taekwoon’s voice.

_I didn’t know how to talk like you,_  
_the stories you told with the way you moved,_  
_the feelings I discovered with every step._  
_I didn’t know how warm you were,_  
_how radiant, how gentle,_  
_until I held you and my hands learned how to speak._  
_I want to make you promises with my body,_  
_but I’m still learning you_  
_Words will have to do for now._

Hakyeon felt himself melting, letting their joined hands drop so he could put both his arms around Taekwoon’s neck, and Taekwoon’s arms both held him closer still. They rocked together, while Taekwoon sang to him with such softness it gave Hakyeon goosebumps. He never wanted it to end. He wanted to stay right there, pressed together, Taekwoon’s arms around him and breath against his hair, for the rest of his life if he could.

He pulled back, just enough to look Taekwoon in the eyes.

“You wrote me a waltz,” he said. Taekwoon smiled.

“What do you think?” he asked. “It’s not done yet, but—”

“It’s beautiful,” Hakyeon said immediately. Taekwoon ducked his head shyly, but he was smiling. Hakyeon put his hands on Taekwoon’s cheeks, lifting his face so he could see that sweet expression before it was hidden away; when their eyes met again, Taekwoon was so close Hakyeon could feel his breath, then their noses brushed and he was _right there_ —

The moment their lips met, Hakyeon felt like he’d spent his whole life waiting for the kiss. He tilted his head and Taekwoon made a noise, soft, before deepening it, lighting a low-burning heat in Hakyeon’s stomach. He was dimly aware of Taekwoon’s hands settling firmly on his hips, and of the way they were lined up, chest to chest, and of the soft feeling of Taekwoon’s hair in his fingers when he ran his hands back, and—

He needed air. Taekwoon apparently didn’t need half as much, because he came in hot and heavy again, drawing small needy sounds from Hakyeon’s throat that he didn’t even know he could make. Taekwoon’s lips were so _soft_ , how much lip balm did he blow through in a day, and could Hakyeon get some just by kissing it straight off him? Why did he taste like coffee and smell like fresh laundry? Why was his head spinning? The kiss broke again, but this time Taekwoon just rested his forehead on Hakyeon’s, eyes closed, breathing.

“I think I could do this forever,” Taekwoon said, smiling.

“I think you’re going to give me a heart attack,” Hakyeon said. “But I agree.”

Hakyeon suddenly felt something sharp on the back of his calf; he yelped, jumping out of the way. Taekwoon somehow caught him before he fell, scooping him up and putting him on the sofa. Terrified, Hakyeon clung on to Taekwoon’s shoulders from behind him.

In the place where they’d been enjoying themselves so much was a dainty looking tortoise shell cat.

“ _Carrot_ ,” Taekwoon snapped at her. “ _Manners._ ”

“She tried to maul me!” Hakyeon squeaked.

“I think she was probably just playing, Hakyeon,” Taekwoon said.

“No, look in her eyes,” Hakyeon whispered, hunching down. “Her eyes are full of murderous intent.”

“Carrot definitely did not try to kill you,” Taekwoon sighed.

“Carrot sees me as a usurper now,” Hakyeon said. “She won’t stop until I’m dead.”

“Hey, that’s my daughter you’re slandering,” Taekwoon said, annoyed. “It’s just a scratch.”

“She didn’t _scratch_ me,” Hakyeon informed him. “She _bit_ me. I’m bleeding.”

“No, you’re not,” Taekwoon sniffed, clearly under the impression Hakyeon was being dramatic.

“I actually am,” Hakyeon said, “Through my jeans, in fact.”

“Wait, you are?” Taekwoon said, turning around and holding Hakyeon’s waist. “Where?” Hakyeon rotated so Taekwoon could see the spot on his leg that was quite clearly bleeding, albeit only so much as a single cat bite could. 

“Damn,” Taekwoon said. “I guess we should get to the bathroom then, I’ve got band aids.”

“Do not put me down on that floor,” Hakyeon said, immediately clinging to Taekwoon’s shoulders again. “I don’t want to die.”

“She’s not going to—”

“ _Do not put me down,_ ” Hakyeon said urgently. “I’m _really scared of her._ ”

“Then how do you expect to get to the bathroom?” Taekwoon asked dryly. Hakyeon did not appreciate his dismissive tone, especially since it was his life at stake.

“Carry me,” Hakyeon said firmly. “Piggyback, then I’ll be safe.”

“I’m not going to carry you,” Taekwoon said.

“You have no choice,” Hakyeon informed him. “Either I bleed out and die on your couch, or you carry me to safety. I hope the solution is quite obvious to you.”

“I’m _not going to carry you._ ”

 

 

“You’re _heavy_ ,” Taekwoon complained, arms around Hakyeon’s knees as he piggybacked him to the bathroom.

“Rude,” Hakyeon sniffed. “I’m a very healthy weight, thank you. Maybe it you put on a little muscle, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I work out almost every day,” Taekwoon informed him, grumpy.

“With the rate at which you eat, I assume this is basically a lifestyle requirement,” Hakyeon replied primly. Taekwoon made an annoyed sound and hefted Hakyeon a little higher on his back.

“We’re here,” Taekwoon informed him before releasing his hands. To his apparent surprise Hakyeon didn’t move, and instead simply locked his legs around Taekwoon’s waist without a moment of hesitation.

“Close the door,” he said firmly. “Carrot may be on the prowl.”

“Carrot was _not trying to kill you,_ ” Taekwoon repeated for the hundredth time. “She was just playing kind of rough!”

“Says you,” Hakyeon retorted. Taekwoon sighed and closed the door, and Hakyeon let go. Taekwoon turned around and squatted, pushing Hakyeon by the hips until he rotated and let Taekwoon get a better look at the bite.

“How could Radish like you, and Carrot attack you?” he said. “That doesn’t make sense. She was just play—oh wow, she really got you.”

“I told you,” Hakyeon said with a pout.

“We should clean it up,” Taekwoon informed him. He looked up at Hakyeon and suddenly turned bright red before standing and turning his back.

“What?” Hakyeon asked.

“Um,” Taekwoon said, before clearing his throat nervously. “You can’t... roll your jeans up, can you.”

Hakyeon looked down at himself; he’d rather deliberately selected the tightest jeans he had, in order to make his... assets more apparent. There was no way he was rolling anything, which meant he’d have to... remove them entirely.

“Oh dear,” he sighed.

“How do you want to... do this?” Taekwoon asked, still with his back turned.

“You’ve never worked with a group of performers before, have you,” Hakyeon said. Briskly and with zero hesitation, he peeled off his jeans. “There’s not much time between sets to change, and definitely not enough time to go off and find yourself a nice private place to strip, so at some point you just kind of get used to the fact that you will definitely be undressing with people present. You don’t have to look away, it’s fine. Oh geez, she really went deep.”

Taekwoon glanced back; as soon as he realized Hakyeon was literally standing there in his boxer briefs, he whipped around again.

“Am I going to have to do that?!” he squeaked in alarm. 

“I don’t know, are you doing a full concert with back up dancers and multiple costumes?” Hakyeon asked. “If you are... probably. Usually we change under the stage, and depending on the costume, there might be people helping you.”

“That sounds like my nightmares,” Taekwoon said.

“Like I said,” Hakyeon said with a shrug. “You get used to it. If you’re not going to help, could you at least tell me where everything is?”

“What? No, I can—I should help,” he said in a very nervous voice.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, really, don’t worry about it,” Hakyeon told him.

“No, it’s fine,” Taekwoon insisted. He turned around, his face possibly redder than Hakyeon had seen since the tango incident, eyes glued to Hakyeon’s face. He clearly thought as long as he didn’t look down, everything would be fine.

“She bit me on my leg,” Hakyeon reminded him. Taekwoon got redder. Hakyeon raised an eyebrow at him.

“You have really nice legs,” Taekwoon mumbled.

“Well, now you get a nice, up close view,” Hakyeon chirped. “Bonus, my butt’s right there.”

“I noticed,” Taekwoon said. “I already told you I noticed.”

“Don’t worry, I’m bleeding,” Hakyeon said. “I sincerely hope that decreases the levels of sexy going on.”

Taekwoon made a pained sound, but gestured for Hakyeon to turn around again. He opened the medicine cabinet over the sink and pulled out some antiseptic and a box of band aids; crouching down again, he sighed.

“This is going to sting,” he warned Hakyeon. “Sorry.”

“I dance barefoot,” Hakyeon informed him. “I’ve had a lot worse.”

“Really?” Taekwoon asked curiously. He wiped off the bite with antiseptic; it did sting, but it wasn’t bad enough to even react to.

“I cut one of my toes pretty deeply on a sharp edge of the stage,” he said. “I’ve also broken toes. Luda—my teacher—made it very clear to us that modern dance is barefoot though. Expression in every limb and digit. I’m sure I’ve broken fingers, but those were less of an issue than feet.”

“That sounds... pretty intense,” Taekwoon commented. He placed two band aids, carefully patting them in place.

“Singing can mess you up though, right?” Hakyeon asked.

“I’ve lost my voice a few times,” Taekwoon said. “And I usually get a headache after concerts just because it’s so loud. Okay, I think you’re done.” Putting his hands on Hakyeon’s hips again, he rotated him around and looked up, smiling.

Hakyeon was suddenly and pointedly aware of how good Taekwoon looked on his knees. Without even really thinking about it, he ran his fingers through Taekwoon’s hair; it felt like moving in slow motion. The expression on Taekwoon’s face, first one of simple happiness, was being replaced by something altogether different. His hands moved from Hakyeon’s hips to his thighs, and Hakyeon got the distinct impression he wasn’t the only one thinking perhaps a little too much about it. Then Taekwoon bit his lip, and Hakyeon swallowed.

He really needed to get his pants back on.

“Um,” Hakyeon said, but before he could summon any words, Taekwoon’s hands were doing that slow, deliberate slide again, around the back of his thighs just under his butt and _squeezing_ ; as if that wasn’t enough, he was looking at Hakyeon with _intent._ Hakyeon tightened his fingers in Taekwoon’s hair, pulling the back of his head just enough to make him roll it back, throat exposed. He felt Taekwoon’s hands moving up, a delicious pressure, and wondered how long it would take for Taekwoon to notice he was getting hard.

Or if he would care.

“Hakyeon-ah,” Taekwoon said in a voice like silk. The heat from before, banked by his assault-by-cat, flared again just hearing the heavy softness when Taekwoon said his name.

“Stand up,” Hakyeon said. Taekwoon obeyed instantly, dragging his hands up Hakyeon’s body and under the hem of his shirt; Hakyeon hadn’t released his grip on Taekwoon’s hair, and didn’t really see a reason to do so. He kissed Taekwoon roughly, tongue and teeth, and was rewarded by a whining sound and the feeling of Taekwoon’s fingers skirting across his stomach. He wanted to feast on Taekwoon’s mouth, warm and welcoming, but he wasn’t at all certain he would ever feel full. 

Taekwoon started backing them up to the door and Hakyeon felt his shoulders hit the wood, but he didn’t stop, pressing them together and making it abundantly clear that Hakyeon was not the only one enjoying himself. Taekwoon’s mouth moved down just under Hakyeon’s jaw and kissed him with an added scrape of teeth; that combined with Taekwoon pushing a thigh between his legs drew a hiss from Hakyeon. Taekwoon dropped one hand to grab his ass and squeeze.

“Ah—” Hakyeon choked, throwing his head back. Taekwoon’s mouth was on his neck, probably leaving marks, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care; he just wanted more of this, more of Taekwoon, more of everything that felt so _good._ He couldn’t remember the last time (if ever) he’d been so needy for someone. Hakyeon rolled his hips, pressure against pressure, and Taekwoon moaned in his ear.

The wood dug into his back and Hakyeon realized if they kept this up, they’d fuck against the door, and that really wasn’t something he wanted to do. Taekwoon seemed to come so a similar thought, because he pulled back to look Hakyeon in the eyes. His lips were red and bruised, pupils blown wide, and his hair was mussed from Hakeyon’s fingers.

“Here?” Taekwoon asked, breathless.

“Not here,” Hakyeon agreed, equally in search of air.

“Bed?” Taekwoon suggested.

“Are we doing this?” Hakyeon asked. Taekwoon actually had to shake his head to clear his thoughts.

“You don’t want to?” Taekwoon asked. “Do you want to stop?”

“Absolutely not,” Hakyeon informed him firmly. “I want you.”

As if he couldn’t even control himself anymore, Taekwoon surged forward at that simple statement to kiss him deeply, almost aggressive. He pulled away after a few delicious moments.

“So bed?”

“ _Yes._ ”

Taekwoon leaned in for a kiss again, fumbling with the bathroom door handle as the other hand went around Hakyeon’s waist; how he got it open was a mystery for another day, but he turned them so he was the one backing up, leading them to the bedroom Hakyeon had yet to see. It wasn’t far—on maybe it only felt close because Taekwoon had not stopped kissing him the entire time. The back of his calves hit the bed and he sat down; Hakyeon immediately straddled his lap and threw his arms around Taekwoon’s neck. When his weight settled, Taekwoon moaned against his mouth.

Hakyeon pulled impatiently at Taekwoon’s shirt; it rather infuriatingly had buttons, which took a frustrating long time to undo, especially considering Taekwoon had a handful of his ass again. He finally had all the buttons undone and pushed the shirt off his shoulders; Taekwoon pulled it the rest of the way off and threw it off to the side without caring where it landed. Hakyeon ran his hands over Taekwoon’s delicious broad shoulders and down his chest, appreciating what he’d been imagining for weeks but had never actually seen. Now it was his turn to let his mouth wander, hot breaths on Taekwoon’s jaw and lipping at his ear. Taekwoon groaned and gasped so pleasantly beneath him, he smiled.

“Take your shirt off,” Taekwoon said, tugging pointedly at the hem. Hakyeon pulled it over his head and threw it somewhere in the same direction Taekwoon’s had gone. Taekwoon stilled suddenly, silent.

Every insecurity Hakyeon had about himself reared up and started screaming in his head. He felt his face flushing in embarrassment and shame.

“Sorry,” he said softly. “I told you, nothing to see.”

Maybe he should have asked Taekwoon to turn the lights off.

Then Taekwoon’s hands were on his face, cradling his face, and kissing him so slowly, so carefully, it felt much more tender than before.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Taekwoon murmured at him.

“I’m not,” Hakyeon protested, but Taekwoon moved his hands from Hakyeon’s face to around his waist.

“You are,” he insisted. He bent his head to press soft, fluttering kisses along Hakyeon’s jaw. “I almost can’t breathe.” Hakyeon’s fingers tightened on Taekwoon’s shoulders, and he let out a soft gasp when Taekwoon kissed just behind his ear.

He wasn’t quite prepared for Taekwoon to use his hold around his middle to flip them, Hakyeon landing on his back with Taekwoon above him, _on_ him, heavy and warm. His mouth was moving down to Hakyeon’s neck and collarbones.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” Hakyeon asked playfully, hoping to recapture some of the mood.

“No,” Taekwoon said against his skin.

“No?” Hakyeon repeated, feeling a pit in his stomach.

“I’m going to make love to you,” Taekwoon informed him. He looked up, smiling. “Is that cool?”

Hakyeon turned scarlet again, but this time it was for all the right reasons.

“Come here,” Hakyeon said softly. Taekwoon obliged him, coming back up to kiss Hakyeon softly. Hakyeon wasn’t sure what to say anymore, nor did he trust himself to be even slightly coherent, but he hoped he could convey his gratitude through touch. He ran his hands across Taekwoon’s broad shoulders and let his nails drag; he was pleased when Taekwoon made a soft noise against his lips, shivering. 

Taekwoon kissed him once more, then sat up on his knees. He had his belt off in a swift movement, and he got off the end of the bed to stand so he could push off his jeans and underwear in one go. Hakyeon sucked in a breath at the sight of him, biting his lip; he felt his cock throb in response. Without prompting, Taekwoon returned to Hakyeon’s mouth and choked when Hakyeon’s hand wrapped around his erection and stroked. For a moment, Hakyeon could tell his mind had gone completely blank as his mouth fell open and his eyes closed; he pressed their foreheads together like he couldn’t bear being apart.

He seemed to get a hold of himself fairly quickly, because his hand was dragging down Hakyeon’s stomach, only to stop short of actually touching him.

“I want to take these off you,” Taekwoon murmured to him, hooking a finger in the waist of Hakyeon’s shorts, “But maybe you want to do it?”

Hakyeon actually felt his heart melt at the consideration; he did feel a galloping sort of nervousness, but the heat of Taekwoon’s body and the softness in his voice did more to reassure him than he’d managed on his own in years. He brought his hands back to Taekwoon’s shoulders and smiled.

“Please,” he said. “You?”

He probably should have guessed Taekwoon was up to something when he saw the smirk on his face. Taekwoon suddenly moved down his body, bending to bite the edge of the underwear he’d hooked with his finger, and pulling them down _with his teeth_. He even had the audacity to look up at Hakyeon while he did it. Hakyeon immediately covered his own mouth with one hand because he knew the sound he was making was _much_ too loud. With Taekwoon’s mouth so close to his cock, Hakyeon felt like he was on fire. Once he’d pulled Hakyeon’s shorts down enough to free his erection, he pulled them off the rest of the way with his hands, tossing them and coming back to Hakyeon for passionate, sloppy kissing.

“Cool trick,” Hakyeon said once his heart started beating again.

“Thanks,” Taekwoon said with a smug expression. Hakyeon wanted to wipe it off, so he hooked one leg around the back of Taekwoon’s knee and ground their hips together, cock against cock, heat and pressure combining into a delicious friction that pulled a shout from Taekwoon along with a full-body shudder. Pleased with himself, Hakyeon did it again, arching his back into it; he felt Taekwoon’s mouth on his neck, biting. How many marks was he going to have tomorrow? He hoped he still matched the concealer he owned.

Taekwoon was panting already, sweat beading up on his skin. He met Hakyeon’s mouth for a few brief kisses before struggling to regain some sense of composure; Hakyeon had no intention of letting him though, because Taekwoon unraveling was one of the more satisfying images he’d ever seen. He kept grinding them together, moaning and digging his nails into Taekwoon’s back.

“Give me a _second_ , would you?” Taekwoon said around a choke of air. Hakyeon stopped, but twisted one hand in Taekwoon’s hair at the back of his skull and pulled.

“Hmm?” he hummed questioningly.

“What—what are we doing?” Taekwoon managed to get out, a feat which impressed Hakyeon.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean—what do you want?” Taekwoon said. He was frowning, but Hakyeon got the impression it was because he was fighting very hard to have coherent thoughts. Hakyeon figured out what he meant about two beats later; he brought the hand on Taekwoon’s shoulder to cup his cheek, fingertips brushing softly against his skin.

“I want you,” he said quietly. “You lead, I’ll follow.”

Taekwoon’s expression softened, and he leaned forward to kiss Hakyeon on the forehead sweetly. Then he was pushing himself up and away.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Just—just hang on a second.” He stumbled his way to the nightstand, yanking open a drawer and grabbing something before coming back to immediately drape himself over Hakyeon again and tossing his handful to the side. Hakyeon didn’t need to look to know what it was; he ran his hands through Taekwoon’s hair again, pulling him down for some more heavy, deep kissing.

“So,” Taekwoon said when his mouth was briefly free, “I, um.”

“You, um?” Hakyeon prompted against his neck.

“Haven’t—done this much,” Taekwoon said. Something in his voice was a bit... shaky, and Hakyeon released his hair to run a hand down his cheek.

“What?”

“This,” Taekwoon said, getting redder the longer Hakyeon stared at him. He already had a healthy flush going, but this was a different kind of discomfort. “S-sex.”

“Okay,” Hakyeon said carefully, trying to figure out what about that made Taekwoon feel like Hakyeon should know. His hesitance was worrying; the stutter certainly didn’t help. “Is that—are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Taekwoon said instantly. “I just...” He trailed off, and Hakyeon brushed his sweaty bangs off his face and waited. Taekwoon leaned into his hand; it seemed unconscious. He bit his lip. “I might be bad, I don’t know.”

“Bad?” Hakyeon repeated, confused. 

“Bad,” Taekwoon said, wincing. “Not much practice, so—maybe bad?”

“You took my shorts off with your teeth,” Hakyeon felt the need to remind him. “You’re doing fine.”

“But that’s not—ah!” His words were cut off when Hakyeon rolled their hips together again.

“You’re doing great,” Hakyeon purred at him. “Don’t worry. Trust me, okay?” 

Taekwoon froze for a moment; Hakyeon smiled. As if that was all he needed, Taekwoon came back down for more kissing—Hakyeon had a far-away thought that even if he added up all the other kisses he’d ever had in his life, he still wouldn’t come close to how many he’d had today. Taekwoon buried his face in Hakyeon’s neck.

“I want to be good for you,” he murmured.

“You are,” Hakyeon informed him. “You’re so good, just keep going.” For some reason, this seemed to make Taekwoon flush even more, but he also made a whining sound so Hakyeon took it as a win. As Taekwoon’s hands dragged down his sides, Hakyeon wiggled his way up high on the bed until his head hit pillows. Taekwoon reached for one, but seemed to reconsider.

“Do you need one?” he asked.

“I don’t know, how hard are you planning on going at it?” Hakyeon snorted. “I’m flexible, remember?” 

“Right,” Taekwoon said. “Skip it.” He reached for the condom packet and lube, only to spectacularly fumble both; his hands were visibly shaking, so Hakyeon picked the foil packet up for him, tore the package open (carefully) with his teeth and deftly took Taekwoon in hand himself. Taekwoon hissed, biting his lip again as Hakyeon slowly and deliberately slid the condom over his cock, adding a few good strokes along the way. He loved the way Taekwoon’s hair was sticking to his face with sweat, almost as much as he liked the feel of his hard cock in his hand.

“You could have just asked,” Hakyeon purred at him. Taekwoon captured his mouth instead of answering, which was more than enough as he put a hand on each of Hakyeon’s knees and gently pushed them apart. It was far from uncomfortable for someone who could do a straight split. Hakyeon knew Taekwoon probably needed to focus, but he couldn’t keep his hands out of Taekwoon’s hair.

Carefully, Taekwoon pushed one long, slicked up finger into him; Hakyeon groaned and tightened his fingers. As he moved around, stretching, Hakyeon did his best to keep making encouraging sounds. It wasn’t hard at all; even after a second finger, then a third, Hakyeon could already feel his cock throbbing and his stomach clenching with need. When Taekwoon withdrew, he whimpered.

“Good?” Taekwoon asked; breathless, Hakyeon could only nod. Taekwoon lined himself up and pressed in, slow and deliberate, shaking with the effort it took to keep from thrusting in too hard or fast. Hakyeon moaned, low and deep in his chest, and when he felt Taekwoon’s hips against his as he bottomed out; Hakyeon wrapped his legs around Taekwoon’s waist.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Hakyeon gasped. Taekwoon pulled one of Hakyeon’s hands from his hair, twisting their fingers together and pressing their linked hands down on the bed; he also bent down to kiss Hakyeon, just as he finally started to move. He swallowed the smaller cries but his focus broke as he started to thrust more raggedly. Hakyeon loved it, arching his back, at first just panting with each stroke, then crying out. 

“You’re so good,” he cried. “You’re so good, fuck, Taekwoon, just—ah, please, keep— _ah_ —"

Taekwoon wrapped his free hand around Hakyeon cock, stroking in time with his thrusting and twisting the fiery knot in Hakyeon’s stomach even tighter. He knew he was close, and as words failed him in favor of shouting. Taekwoon was far from silent himself, moaning and gasping each time Hakyeon took him in all the way. Then Hakyeon felt himself teetering on the edge of his climax; the hand still twisted in Taekwoon’s hair tightened, then he was shouting, loud, cock twitching as he came in Taekwoon’s hand. Taekwoon thrust into him a few more strokes before shouting himself like the sound had ripped its way out of him; he immediately kissed Hakyeon again, devouring his lips and the soft gasps and hiccups Hakyeon made. Utterly spent, he pulled out and removed the condom before he got too soft, knotting it and tossing it in a well-placed trash bin.

Hakyeon couldn’t stop smiling. 

“You did so well,” he murmured when Taekwoon returned to him. “Your cock is so good, I miss it already.” Taekwoon flushed under the praise but seemed pleased nonetheless. He yanked at the bedding under them, pulling it free enough to bring over them as he draped his long body over Hakyeon’s, burying his face against Hakyeon’s neck. Leisurely, Hakyeon ran his fingers through Taekwoon’s hair and down his neck as he waited for his heartbeat to return to normal. Or at least as normal as it usually was around Taekwoon.

Hakyeon knew Taekwoon was drifting off, judging by his breathing pattern, but sleep didn’t come to him quite as quickly; his brain wouldn’t stop shrieking at him to evaluate and define and over-analyze the evening. He knew what he wanted it all to add up to: a relationship, a real one, committed and exclusive and _theirs_. Taekwoon had talked a good talk about being available, but he was literally a celebrity, and Hakyeon couldn’t quite shake the nervousness that surely somebody, _anybody_ was jockeying for the spot he was in right now: Taekwoon’s arms.

 

 

He must have dozed off and some point, because he woke up to Taekwoon getting out of bed and pulling loose boxers on. Hakyeon propped himself up on his elbows, unable to quite hold back the frown of concern. Taekwoon looked back and saw it immediately; he smiled and took the time to move to Hakyeon and kiss him softly.

“I have to feed the girls, or they’ll start howling,” he explained. “I’ll be right back.”

“Why are you putting clothes on?” Hakyeon whined.

“The entire front wall is windows,” Taekwoon reminded him. “It’s supposed to be tinted glass, but I don’t trust it.”

“Fair,” Hakyeon acknowledged. “You’re coming right back?”

“Five minutes, tops,” Taekwoon promised him with a kiss on the forehead. He left, and Hakyeon sat up completely to contemplate how he was going to broach the subject, let alone actually get into it. Sure, they’d just had sex— _great_ sex, even—but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Taekwoon had called it—but Hakyeon could easily be reading too much into it.

He also could be reading too little, but even that was confusing.

Taekwoon came back very quickly, as promised, and crawled up from the foot of the bed to Hakyeon, leaning over him and kissing him again; Hakyeon put a hand around the back of his neck, melting under Taekwoon’s heat.

“Do you have to go home tonight?” Taekwoon asked him. “Can you just stay?” The eagerness in his voice was so _endearing._

“I’ll have to go back for a change of clothes at some point, but it doesn’t have to be tonight,” Hakyeon said. “Why?”

“I want to kiss you more,” Taekwoon explained before doing exactly that. Hakyeon definitely understood the feeling.

“Weird question,” Hakyeon blurted out before he could lose his nerve, “What does all of this mean to you?”

“What?” Taekwoon asked, confused.

“I mean—this. Us. What is it? What—what are we, at this point?” Hakyeon asked, biting his lip nervously. Taekwoon kissed him again, which was becoming the fastest possible way to sidetrack Hakyeon completely.

“What do you want to be?” Taekwoon returned, rather unfairly in Hakyeon’s opinion. His hold on the back of Taekwoon’s neck got marginally firmer.

“I want you,” Hakyeon said. “And I hate sharing.”

“You and only you,” Taekwoon said. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Hakyeon huffed. “Just ‘okay’?”

“Yes,” Taekwoon said, smiling. “I’m yours, you’re mine, us. Let’s do it.”

“So it’s a relationship?” Hakyeon said. “A serious one?”

“Yeah,” Taekwoon said.

“So we’re a couple? Official?”

“Why do you keep asking the same question?” Taekwoon pouted at him. “The answer is the same.”

“Because I don’t really get it,” Hakyeon said quietly. “Why, I mean.”

“Why what?” Taekwoon asked. “Why I like you?”

“Something like that,” Hakyeon said.

“Do I need to waltz with you again before you believe me?” Taekwoon asked with a frown.

“Just tell me,” Hakyeon said. Then, sheepish, “Sorry, I know that’s—not easy for you.” 

Taekwoon shifted, sitting up with his back against the headboard; he waved Hakyeon closer, and Hakyeon pillowed his head in Taekwoon’s lap. He felt Taekwoon’s fingers gently combing through his hair as he collected his thoughts.

“You’re one of the most complete people I’ve ever met,” Taekwoon said. “Like... you’re smart and creative, but also funny. You play and work at the same time. You make everyone feel better just... by being around you. You’re gorgeous.” He paused; Hakyeon was glad Taekwoon wasn’t looking at him, because he was bright red. “You’re... all the right pieces at once.”

He paused again, adding a hesitant, “Does that—make sense?”

Hakyeon rolled so he was face up in Taekwoon’s lap; he reached up with both hands, holding Taekwoon’s face.

“Yes,” he said. He wasn’t sure if it mattered to Taekwoon, but he said, “Same goes for you, you know. You’re so talented and brave—you want to try new things and push your comfort zone. I wish I was half that courageous. And not just work, even—even in your regular life, you go for it.” Hakyeon ran a thumb across his cheekbone. “Also you’re fucking beautiful, but I knew that before I met you properly.”

“I don’t know who that person is, but he sounds pretty nice,” Taekwoon teased. Hakyeon laughed.

“He’s the sweetest,” Hakyeon said. “You’re the sweetest.”

“Oh, good,” Taekwoon said. “Sounds like we’re kind of perfect for each other.”

“Kind of,” Hakyeon laughed again. Taekwoon bent to kiss him; Hakyeon forgot what he was even worrying about.

 

 

“You’re wearing your spares,” Hongbin commented at practice. Hakyeon flushed; between the evening activities, the _morning_ activities, and breakfast, he hadn’t actually managed to go home and change; he borrowed some of Taekwoon’s clothes, but he suspected the kids would notice immediately and changed into his spare dance outfit before any of them arrived.

Unfortunately, they seemed to notice anyway.

“Wait,” Wonshik said, squinting suspiciously. “Are _you_ the reason Taekwoon-hyung said he was doing something yesterday?”

“Was he doing _you_ yesterday?!” Jaehwan gasped. Hakyeon put his face in his hands. This only encouraged Jaehwan to bounce around him like an overexcited puppy.

“You did it!” he cheered. “You did each other! YAY!”

For whatever reason, the kids thought it would be hilarious to make a circle around him, jumping and cheering and being very rude, and all Hakyeon could do was bury his blushing face in his palms. When they calmed down a bit and let him go, Hakyeon immediately made for the stereo, hoping desperately he could get to it before they teased him even more.

“So... are you two official?” Jaehwan asked; the room went silent.

“Yes,” Taekwoon’s soft voice carried across the room. Hakyeon whipped around to see him standing in the doorway with a bag in his hand and a blush in full force on his cheeks. Hakyeon nearly ran across the room, hoping to get to him without being intercepted, but Sanghyuk and Hongbin had positioned themselves on either side of the doorframe with very menacing expressions that had Taekwoon looking between the two of them very nervously.

“What are you doing here?” Hakyeon asked, stepping between them and giving them each a warning chop in the side. Taekwoon held out the bag. 

“You didn’t have time for lunch, right?” he said. “I’ve got recording all day today, so I can’t go with you later.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Hakyeon said, smiling.

“I wanted to,” Taekwoon said. “Sorry to bug you. I’ll text you later.” He was about to leave, but Hakyeon wasn’t quite ready to let him walk away; he put a hand on Taekwoon’s arm and kissed him, just once, just soft and sweet, just enough to leave a smile on Taekwoon’s face too.

“Awwwww,” Wonshik said as the rest of the room stayed silent. Taekwoon waved at him before leaving, this time for real.

“What did he buy you?” Sanghyuk asked curiously, looking at the bag. “Rich people food? Caviar sandwich?”

Hakyeon opened the bag; it contained two Tupperware containers, one of some kind of pasta, and one of a very fresh and delicious-looking salad. Both were noticeably handmade.

“Did he get his housekeeper to feed you?!” Hongbin asked.

“He made them,” Hakyeon informed the room, aware he was completely melting. “He cooks really well.”

“AWWWWWW,” Jaehwan and Wonshik both repeated loudly.

“Oh no,” Sanghyuk said, wincing. Everyone looked at him; he added, looking mildly sick, “This is really cute.”

“It’s disgusting,” Hongbin agreed. “I think I’m getting a cavity. Ugh.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Hakyeon said before the teasing could go any farther, “Let’s get to work, shall we?” He placed the Tupperware gently next to his bag; suddenly lunch couldn’t come fast enough.

“What’re we doing today?” Jaehwan asked. “We finished the routine, right?”

“Today,” Hakyeon said with a smile, “We’re going to tango, so you brats can get a part-time job.”

“I already work for him,” Wonshik pointed out.

“Well, let’s get you a promotion,” Hakyeon said. “Are you ready?”

“Shit,” Wonshik said, eyes wide. “Maybe I can finally get a dog!”

“LET’S DANCE,” Hakyeon shouted when Sanghyuk hit the stereo.

 

 

_Woon-ah: I got bored in the car and googled latin dancing_  
_Woon-ah: why didn't you tell me about salsa?_

Hakyeon sighed.

_Because your legs are so long, you might actually kill people._

_Woon-ah: I still think you should probably teach it to me_  
_Woon-ah: for science_

_I have a better idea,_ Hakyeon snickered. _Remind me to show you the clips from the pole-dancing course I took last year._

_Woon-ah: oh my god_

Hakyeon grinned.


End file.
